


143: I love you

by DracoIgnis



Series: A lesson in lust [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 1990s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Masturbation, Professor Jon Snow, Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Smut, Spanking, Teacher-Student Relationship, student daenerys targaryen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-12-31 18:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21150464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoIgnis/pseuds/DracoIgnis
Summary: Professor Jon Snow does not want a student worker. He especially does not want Daenerys Targaryen - she is too keen, too happy, and too big a part of his sexual fantasies. How will he manage when she's around 24/7? A 2-chapter Jonerys AU story set in the 1990s. Contains original artwork.





	1. Chapter 1

..

For the fourth week in a row, Jon grabbed the tray of filled applications from outside his office, walked to his desk and, having placed his mug of coffee on the coaster, dumped the whole lot into the bin. He then returned the empty plastic tray to the stand by the door, folded his arms and sighed: “Seems like I just can’t get any candidates.”

The sign on the wall read:

> TRAINEE OPPORTUNITY - APPLY HERE.

Of course, that was only half the truth; whilst every university professor had a similar piece of paper stuck to their office door, Jon’s tray was the only one always void of applicants. In truth, he was the only professor yet to choose a student to work under him. _ Something that’s not about to change, _ Jon thought as he settled by his desk, grabbed his mug and started sipping his brew.

Professor Jon Snow was thirty-two years of age and perfectly content with his position in life. In fact, he had spent the three years since earning his PhD in palaeontology on perfecting his routine. As he leaned back in the worn leather chair, his feet pushing books and paper aside as he rested them atop the desk, he flipped open his calendar and studied the day’s schedule:

> 8am: Coffee.
> 
> 8:30am: Grade papers.
> 
> 11am: Meeting with Dr Tarly.
> 
> 12:30pm: Lunch.
> 
> 1:30pm: Early lecture.
> 
> 2:30pm: Tea time.
> 
> 3pm: Research committee meeting.
> 
> 4pm: Late lecture.

Jon put down his mug as he grabbed a pen, bit off the lid and meticulously crossed out the first duty of the day. This simple act alone sent a shudder of satisfaction down his spine, and he glanced at his wristwatch to determine that he was well ahead of his schedule already.

_ And thank the Gods for that, _ he thought as his office door swung open, and he furrowed his brows at the sight of his colleague’s face, _ because it looks like I’m about to have an early, early lecture. _

“Professor,” the woman greeted him.

Jon slowly reached for his glasses. They were stuck in the neck of his jumper vest. As his colleague waited patiently by his desk, he unfolded the temples of his glasses, one by one, his fingers caressing the thick, brown frame before he finally slipped them onto his face. As if shocked by the sight in front of him, Jon clapped his hands together and spoke: “Dr Olenna Tyrell! What a _ pleasant _ surprise.”

His colleague forced a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “Professor,” she said, “you and I both know that you’re perfectly capable of seeing.”

“Do we now?” Jon asked, tapping his finger at the bridge of the frame, “well, I supposed that a woman of your education would be capable of knocking on my door, so I guess it’s a peculiar day for both of us.”

“If I knocked, you would insist that you are not here.”

“That I would,” Jon agreed, “because you’re not in my schedule.” He waved the calendar at her and quirked his brows.

Olenna rolled her eyes. “Nothing of importance in history has ever been pre-written,” she said.

“Yet I study what has already left a mark, so it seems your comment is unnecessary.”

“So is your resistance to change,” Olenna spoke. “I hear you’ve yet to choose a trainee?”

Jon bit his inner cheek as he rocked his chair back and forth. The old leather groaned under his movements. “I’ve not had anyone apply,” he insisted.

“Is that so? When I went home yesterday, I walked past a full tray outside.”

Jon shrugged. “Could be the wind took them?”

Olenna eyed his bin and sighed: “Odd how the winds blow, isn’t it?” She glanced around his office, seemingly searching for a place to sit but, finding every surface covered with books, simply turned back to face Jon. She folded her arms at her front as she continued: “It does not matter, Professor. You either choose, or the faculty will make a decision.”

“Either way, I have to delegate my important work to a simple student with no grasp of my schedule,” Jon spoke sourly. He slipped his feet down from his desk as he instead leaned onto it, his grey eyes seeking Olenna’s brown ones. “So be it - let the faculty make their pick.”

At first, Olenna didn’t speak, and Jon thought that perhaps he had impressed her. But then, she started to chuckle. Her voice was deep with amusement as she said: “Oh, Professor Snow, you misunderstand. The faculty has no interest in picking your student,” she said.

Jon wrinkled his nose, and his eyes narrowed in confusion. “Then whatever did you mean?”

“The faculty will have to make a decision on whether it’s reasonable to employ an uncooperative professor,” she said, and her eyes glimmered at her own words. “You got away with it for three years, _ Jon_, but no longer. Not now I-”

“-am part of the department,” Jon muttered. The truth tasted bitter on his tongue; after years of persistence, Olenna Tyrell had finally managed to worm her way to power. Jon had known she would eventually seek him out, smiling her smug smile and speaking her honeyed words, but he had never thought she would choose student work for her crusade.

_ Then again, her granddaughter is a student too, _ Jon reminded himself, _ I am sure she has whispered in her ear about how I teach. _ He fisted his hands, his nails digging into his palms, and for a moment he was at a loss.

Then, he gazed into her eyes, and with a small, defiant smile he reached into the bin. Without ever losing eye contact, his fingertips grazed the many applications and then tucked one out at random. “Well, you can tell the faculty,” he said as he handed the piece of paper to her, “that I have made my decision.”

Olenna’s eyes narrowed, and she took in a deep breath through her nose before she took hold of the application before her. “Is this really how you want to do things?” she asked.

Jon nodded and leaned back in his chair, mug in hand, as he sipped his brew. “My decision stands,” he said. “You never specified _ how _ I make my selection, only that I do. So there-” he gestured at the paper in her hand, “my choice for top trainee of the year.”

Olenna turned over the application as she skimmed it. The further down she got, the more her lips seemed to tug back into a smile. “Mhm, I guess it can’t be helped,” she said. “Very well, Professor, I shall inform your student of the decision.”

“Please do,” Jon spoke, but he felt uneasy at the way her eyes glimmered as she turned to leave his office. Part of him wanted to ask for the application back, just for a chance to read it, but he knew he had to remain strong now not to make a fool of himself.

_ Besides, _ he thought, glancing at his watch, _ it’s 8:33, and I’m late. _

* * *

The next morning, he found a young lass standing outside his door. She was a short, pale thing with silver hair tied up with a scrunchie, flared jeans and a striped crop top. Seemingly in an attempt to make herself appear more professional, she’d put on a purple blazer atop the mess, but all Jon could think was that she looked like a first year student.

_ Probably lost, _ he thought as he approached, coffee in hand, and it was not until she turned and smiled at him that he realised she’d been expecting him.

“Professor,” she spoke, and her eyes lit up.

Jon stopped a few feet short of her and glanced at her in confusion. After a pause, he asked: “Yes?”

“I’m Daenerys,” she said, her voice still chipper despite his vexed face. She reached over to shake his hand but, finding one holding a mug and the other his briefcase, she instead slipped her hands behind her back as she sent him a shy smile. “Daenerys Targaryen. I am so excited for this opportunity.”

Jon paused once more. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m confused - are you looking for someone?”

Daenerys cocked her head. Her smile didn’t falter, but it seemed a bit more strained. “Yes, Professor, I was looking for you?” As he didn’t immediately speak, she added: “Am I late? Please tell me I am not late. Not on my first day!”

It was then, as she stood panicked before him, that something started to dawn on Jon. As he closed his eyes, he took in a deep breath, an ache starting to form in the back of his head, and he said: “You’re Daenerys Targaryen.”

“Yes,” she replied.

“You’re looking for me.”

“Yes,” she spoke again, her voice seeming less certain. “Professor, is something amiss?”

Jon clenched his eyes so tightly that glimmers of light danced across the inners of his eyelids, and in them he could see the smirking face of Olenna Tyrell.

_ She fooled me, _ he thought and tensed his jaw, _ She knew I’d picked a hopeless young girl, and she revelled in the knowledge. That is my reward for being stubborn. _

Jon blinked his eyes open with a sigh as he finally looked back at Daenerys. She was watching him confused, her violet eyes shimmering with concern. “Get the door,” he said and nodded at it, and she swiftly complied, letting them into his office. “We’ve got to talk.”

As always, Jon’s office smelled of worn leather, old paper and ink. He pushed his nose to the mug, drowning his senses in the scent of coffee before he placed it atop the coaster. He then tucked at the heavy curtains on his right and dragged them aside, allowing the morning sun to fall into the room. In the sparse light, dust could be seen dancing in the air, and Jon waved some out of his eyes as he settled in his leather chair, taking in a deep breath. He was trying to come up with words to speak: “Daenerys-”

“Wow.”

Jon blinked. She was standing at the threshold to his office, her eyes glancing about shyly, and for a moment, he allowed himself to follow her gaze:

Up against all four walls were old bookcases filled to the brim with papers, journals and leatherbound theories, some of the shelves bending under the sheer weight. Collections of stones from his many worktrips were displayed in the windowsill, and on his desk were several fossils, all of them enclosed in glass, each labeled with a year and a description. He had two spare chairs in the room, but both were toppled with student papers, and his three rolling sets of drawers were collected in a corner, each of them covered with notes that only he could discern.

Jon’s gaze slipped back to the girl and he sighed: “You can come in, you know.” As she only gingerly stepped inside, he smirked: “Look, I know it’s impressive, but-”

“How do you find anything in this mess?” she gasped, glancing around the shelves.

At her words, Jon reddened, and he fumbled to press the mug of coffee to his lips before he spoke in error. _ What an obnoxious brat! _ However, before he had a chance to reply, someone else chipped in:

“Oh, Professor Snow has his ways.” Olenna stepped onto the threshold herself, a smile on her lips as she glanced between Jon and Daenerys. “Miss Targaryen, thank you so much for accepting this offer on such short notice. I know it’s customary to give a few weeks of consideration, but-” and at this she paused, her smile deepening as she looked toward Jon, “_things _ got in the way.”

Daenerys shook her head with such eagerness that her silver locks bounced about. “Not at all, Dr Tyrell,” she said energetically, “I was just saying to Professor Snow how excited I am about this opportunity to work for him.”

“I am sure he is just as thrilled,” Olenna spoke, and both women turned to glance at Jon.

Jon sunk deeper into his leather chair, hiding a grimace behind his mug. “Elated,” he mumbled.

“I should think so,” Olenna spoke, “after all, failure is not an option. Lest the faculty should hear about it.” Her gaze was locked with Jon’s, but it was Daenerys who seemed to take heed of the warning.

“I will not fail,” she promised.

Jon felt like gagging. _ She is too eager to please, _ he thought, glaring at her from above the mug as she shook hands with Olenna, _ too keen to progress. I bet she has little else going on in that mind of hers. _ Still, as she turned to face him, he faked a sickly sweet smile. “Thank you, Dr, for coming by,” he said, “it was very… _ enlightening._”

“I shall leave you to it,” Olenna smiled before closing the door behind her.

In the silence that followed, Jon said brooding over his coffee whilst Daenerys stood at attention, her eyes eagerly seeking his. As the seconds dragged by, Jon felt a need to speak, but with nothing to say, he felt relief as Daenerys spoke:

“Professor Snow?”

He put his mug down and sighed: “Yes?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

_ You already are, _ he thought and searched beneath the papers on his desk. As his fingertips pushed against his pack of smokes, he retrieved a cigarette and glanced toward her: “Sure.” He popped it between his lips and lit it, letting the smoke fill his lungs as he waited for her to continue.

Daenerys bit her lower lip, and she tucked her chin to her chest as she spoke shyly: “Why did you pick me?”

Jon nursed the first drag of his smoke, his eyes taking in her face as he thought, _ Fucking hell. _ What was he meant to say? He had no idea of her skills. No idea of her degree. He didn’t even know what _ year _ she was in. But saying, _ Your application was on top of my bin, _ didn’t sound like a good way to start their relation. It wasn’t that he worried about hurting her feelings, but he worried how it might make him seem. _ Like I’m some careless fool, _ Jon thought and tipped the ashes into his bin.

He glanced at his watch, realising that he’d been silent for minutes following her question, so he finally said: “Why don’t you tell me why_ you _ think I chose you.”

Daenerys blinked, and her cheeks went slightly pink. “Oh, well,” she mumbled, “Well, maybe because of my degree?”

Jon nodded. “Sure,” then, realising his opportunity, added: “Tell me about it?”

“Well, I study history,” Daenerys said, “I’m in my first year of studying for my masters. Of course, you know that already.”

“Of course,” Jon agreed, mentally trying to take note. But in truth, his eyes were gazing on his watch as he realised the minutes were ticking down. _ What’s on my plan today? _

“I find it really fascinating, how palaeontologists work,” she said. “Studying fossils to find out what happened millions of years ago? It’s just baffling.”

_ Only if you’re simple-minded, _ Jon wanted to say, but he kept nodding: “Uh-huh.”

“But truth be told-” Daenerys started, but she must have sensed that he wasn’t paying her any attention, for her voice trailed out. For a moment, she paused, then she spoke: “Enough about me babbling, though. How can I help you, Professor?”

Jon tapped his fingers to his desk as he blew out smoke. _ How indeed_, he thought, fiddling with his calendar. He looked down his schedule of the day. “Well, Danyris-”

“Daenerys,” she corrected him.

“Daenerys,” Jon nodded, although his mind was already elsewhere. _ Meeting in five minutes. I have to be quick. _ “_Miss,_ I follow a strict schedule, so if you want to assist, you must be able to make your own decisions.”

“What about?” she asked whilst nodding.

Jon snubbed his smoke out on the edge of the bin, ashes spilling across the carpet. “About… everything,” he said and shrugged, getting up. He tucked at his jumper vest, a few more drops of ashes flicking from the fabric, and he sent her an exasperated look. “What do they always tell you kids? _ Take initiative? _ Do it.”

Daenerys watched him as he made his way around his desk. “Do… what, Professor?” she asked, her voice confused.

“Just-” Jon waved his hands dismissively. “_Do _ something. I’m sure I’ll be impressed.” With that, he grabbed his briefcase, sent her a curt smile, and was on his way down the hallway before she could ask another question.

_ I am going to kill Olenna, _ he thought, his smile sinking into a deep, sour grimace as he marched toward the meeting room, _ if this girl doesn’t kill me first. _

* * *

Upon the return to his office, Jon almost had a heart attack.

As he swung the door open, he didn’t smell any paper or ink or dust. Instead, he smelled the flowerbeds outside, and a light breeze tickled his face. At first, he stopped in confusion, his eyes roaming the room as he wondered if he had walked into the wrong place. Then, as his gaze fell upon the rearranged fossils on his desk, his heart sunk in his chest.

“_No…_” It wasn’t just the fossils - his whole office had gotten a clean up. No dust clung onto the sides of the wooden desk. The stones in the windowsill had been arranged by size. The books on his shelves were freshly dusted. The papers on his chairs no more.

As he stood in awe, Daenerys popped up from behind his desk, dustpan in hand, and she offered him a bright smile. “Welcome back, Professor.”

Jon ran his fingers through his messy curls, his wide eyes staring at her. “Whatever _ happened?_” he asked.

Daenerys blinked and shook the pan out of the open window, letting the ashes be carried away with the breeze. “I took your advice,” she said, “I took initiative_ . _”

“_To release chaos?_” Jon’s voice was heavy with panic, and Daenerys’ assured voice turned hesitant as she said:

“No, to clean.” She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes as she approached him with small steps. “Is everything okay, Professor?”

“No,” Jon said and shook his head. “No, it is not. What did you do to my stones?” He pointed at the windowsill.

Daenerys followed his gesture. “Oh, they looked so odd all bungled up,” she said, “I thought that in this way, it’s more neat.”

“They were perfectly arranged,” Jon insisted.

“In what way?”

“By the year I found them,” he said. Then, he turned to his fossils. “And those?”

“I arranged them by year,” Daenerys explained hurriedly, pointing to the labels. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

“_No_,” Jon groaned, his hands scratching his hair with more furor. The sight of all his stuff in places it wasn’t meant to be was messing with his brain, and he could barely stand to look at it. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “They were arranged by _ names_.”

“I can redo it,” she promised eagerly, leaning in to read the labels once more.

“No, not _ alphabetically,_” Jon sighed, his voice soaked in annoyance. _ Why is she so useless? _ “By the name of the expedition I was on when I discovered them.”

“Well, that’s just confusing.”

“Not for me!” Jon held out his arms, turning about as he glanced at his shelves.

“I didn’t re-arrange those,” Daenerys spoke, before sadly adding: “I didn’t have the time.”

“This is just unbelievable.” Jon trudged over as he sunk into his leather chair, and he groaned as the smell from the flowers tickled his nose. “Close the window,” he murmured and gestured at the glass, and Daenerys hurriedly shut out the smells.

She shyly tucked her hands behind her back as she watched him, her cheeks reddening as she spoke: “Look, Professor, I am sorry if I offended you - I really meant no harm.”

“I am just baffled,” he said. He glanced around the desk, looking for his smokes, and Daenerys swiftly opened his top drawer, pointing to the pack. Without another word, he withdrew a cigarette, lit it, and let the smoke calm his nerves.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Jon sighed: “I feel like for this to work, I need to give you guidance.”

“I think that is part of the idea,” Daenerys said. He could almost sense slight in her voice, but as she didn’t say anything further, he just shrugged it off.

“Right, here’s the plan-” he said and bit down around the edge of his smoke. He withdrew his calendar, ripped off a page, and started scribbling down his day:

> 8am: Coffee.
> 
> 8:30am: Grade papers.
> 
> 11am: Meeting with ___.
> 
> 12:30pm: Lunch.
> 
> 1:30pm: Early lecture.
> 
> 2:30pm: Tea time.
> 
> 3pm: ___ meeting.
> 
> 4pm: Late lecture.

“Here,” he said, handing it to her, “this is the perfect schedule. Trust me - I’ve worked on this for three years, and if I stick to it, everything runs smoothly.”

Daenerys let her gaze wander down the paper. “You do the same thing _ every day?_”

“No, just Monday, Tuesday and Friday,” he assured her. “Same times, different classes, different meetings. But yes, that’s my schedule. The rest of the week I travel between schools, offering my talents.”

“Whatever in?”

“Education. They’re trying to get more kids interested in palaeontology.”

“And they send _ you_?” Daenerys glanced at him with concern, and Jon raised his brows. Before he could speak, she shook her head. “Doesn’t matter,” she said, “This is very helpful. Thank you.”

As she fiddled with the note, Jon sat looking at her, smoke in hand, and he thought, _ She meant well. _ Even thinking it annoyed him, and he promptly stuffed the cigarette between his lips as he leaned back in his chair, glancing toward his dusted bookshelves. _ She’s a fool, but she meant well. _

“Do you-” Jon started, and he paused, searching for the right words. “Do you have any _ skills _?” He glanced at her, and her violet eyes stared back at him with perplexion.

“Uhm, I’d like to think I do?” she replied.

_ She thinks I am testing her again, _ Jon thought. He blew out smoke and explained: “On the application. What skills did you list?”

“Well, I am very neat and organised,” she said, glancing around the room as she reddened, “perhaps a bit _ too _ organised, eh?” She smiled at him, but, as he didn’t smile back, swiftly added: “I am good at remembering things, and I take really good notes.”

“Notes?” Jon interrupted. He tipped the cigarette between his lips as he pondered on her words. “Like, for meetings?”

“Could be?” she said puzzled.

“As you can see,” he tapped to the note in her hand, “I have two meetings a day. The last one is basic trash,” he admitted, causing her to giggle, and he smirked around his smoke. _ Funny, am I? _ “It’s always some research group trying to impress the other members. Pure boasting. It’s meant to be useful, but, well, you’ll see soon enough.” He slipped his finger up to the 11am meeting as he continued: “But my first meeting is normally with a colleague. Those are the meetings I set up because I want to learn something. They’re actually interesting.” He leaned back in his chair with a nod.

Daenerys, less certain, asked: “So what do you need from me, Professor?”

“I need you to take notes. You have a good memory, you say? Put it to use next Friday.” At first, as he watched her face, he saw nothing, and he wondered if his idea didn’t appeal to her at all. Then, a smile broke out across her lips, and she straightened up with such eagerness that her hair bounced about.

“Yes, Professor, I’ll make sure to do you proud!”

Jon blinked, rather baffled at her sudden perkiness, and he merely said: “Okay.” But as she gathered up her things and headed for the door, he called out: “Oh, and Daenerys?”

She turned to look at him. “Yes?”

“Dress more professionally next time,” he said, nodding at her bared navel.

She blushed and nodded before heading out the door, and as it shut behind her, Jon swiftly pulled the curtains to close off the sun.

_ That’s enough brightness for the rest of my life, _ he thought, lingering on her smile.

* * *

True to her words, Daenerys did show up with the intent to make him proud. Friday, as he called her into his office at 10:50am, she stepped over the threshold in a new, fitted suit. The black fabric sat nicely around her slim frame, the white shirt was buttoned all the way up to her neck, whilst the hemline on her skirt rested just above her knees.

“Good morning, Professor,” she greeted him, and Jon gave her a polite nod:

“Miss.” He was sipping his third coffee of the day, and as he emptied his mug, he glanced over the edge toward her knees as he thought, _ Well, this is a change. _

Much to Jon’s disagreement, the university didn’t have a strict dress-code. In the years when he studied for his PhD, it was an unspoken expectation that the men came suited and booted, whilst the women wore nice dresses and heels.

But the times changed; soon, the first year students showed up in the latest fashion, sporting multicoloured nylon jackets and baggy bottoms, and before anyone had a chance to blink, the whole place was taken over.

_ It’s thanks to people like Olenna, _ Jon thought, remembering how she always pushed for change. ‘We must modernise,’ she liked to say, glancing at Jon’s old jumper vests and slacks, ‘if we get stuck in the past, how can we present ourselves as a place of innovation?’

_ By doing good research, _ Jon replied in his thoughts and pushed the mug aside as he stood up, _ and presenting it as proper adults. _ “Ready to go?” he asked and picked up his bag.

Daenerys proudly held up her new notebook as she chirped: “As ready as I can be!”

As they walked the hallways, Jon couldn’t help but to peek at her from the corners of his eyes. Up close, she had quite a cute face, he noted. Small nose. Rounded cheeks. Bright eyes. Plump lips. When she caught him looking, he gave her a polite smile before glancing ahead. _ She looks like a different person to the panicked girl I saw last Tuesday, _ he thought.

“I don’t remember from your application,” Jon said, hoping to sound casual. “How old are you again?”

“I’m twenty-five,” Daenerys said.

“Twenty-five,” Jon repeated in awe. _ That’s how old I was when I started doing my PhD. How time has passed. _ “How come you’ve only just started on your masters now? You must have finished your undergraduate degree years ago?”

At his words, her cheeks brightened. “Well, it wasn’t an option at the time,” she said, letting the explanation hang unsaid.

_ You didn’t have the money, _ Jon concluded, and it surprised him a little. Most of his students came from wealthy families - that’s how they afforded to study useless subjects such as his own. _ No one needs another dinosaur enthusiast, _ he thought, _ but if you have the cash, someone will tell you that they do. _ He shook his head at his own thoughts and just said: “Well, you must be happy to be here now.”

“I am,” she smiled and nodded, her fingers clenching a bit tighter around the notebook. “I am.”

At her words, he couldn’t help but smile, and he hid it in a faked yawn as he said: “Right, we’re meeting with Dr Mormont.” He watched as she flipped open the book, already taking notes as they walked. “He’s a geologist. He’s made some very interesting discoveries recently when he was researching earthquakes in Asia, and I think he came across something that might just help me out so please-” he looked at her, his eyes stern as he spoke, “make sure you get good notes.”

Daenerys nodded eagerly. “Yes, Professor. I’ll make sure you get every word of importance.”

* * *

“You made sure I got _ every word_?”

Jon flipped through the notebook, his eyes absolutely baffled as he stared at page after page of neat notes. It was like he was reading a transcript of his meeting; not only had Daenerys captured word-for-word what the Doctor had told him, she had also made a page of ‘references’, noting down every article, book, and research paper that had been discussed.

Daenerys stood in front of his desk, her face brimming with pride, as she nodded. “I sure did, Professor!”

“This is-...” Jon flipped through the pages, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to read her handwriting. It was so small and perfectly cursive that he could barely tell where one word ended and the other began, “-_useless._” As he glanced back up at her, her face was still brimming, although her smile was slowly turning downwards.

“Useless?” she repeated surprised.

Jon rubbed his temples as he groaned and leaned back in his chair. He pushed his glasses into his curly hair, blinking at her. “Useless!” he repeated.

“But I thought you said-”

“I said that I wanted good notes,” Jon interrupted her. “This? I don’t even know what this is.”

Daenerys’ lips pushed into a pout, and she glanced down at her notebook as she mumbled: “I thought I did so well.”

_ Here we go again, _ Jon thought to himself, and he closed his eyes, his fingers shivering for a smoke. _ She tries her best, messing everything up on the way, and I have to console her, because that’s my duty. _ He glanced up at the ceiling as he thought, _ I swear this whole teacher-student mentoring thing was never mentioned in my job description. _

Jon tapped his fingers at the notebook as he explained: “I needed _ bullet points. _ This is too heavy for me to digest. The time it’ll take me to even understand your handwriting - well, by then I might as well have done it myself.”

Daenerys swallowed. “You know, you didn’t tell me that’s what you wanted,” she pointed out.

“I thought it was obvious.”

“Obviously not.”

Jon grimaced. “You know, for a student so keen, you sure make a lot of mistakes.”

Daenerys sniffed in, and for a moment, he expected her to cry. But instead she sent him a hardened look. “Well, for a Professor so clever, you sure don’t give good guidance,” she shot back.

Jon blinked in surprise at her harsh tone, but it seemed he was not the only one taken aback - Daenerys too lowered her eyes quickly and muttered something under her breath that sounded like ‘sorry’.

“First you mess up my office, then you mess up this,” he gestured broadly at the notes as he sunk back into his seat. He rested his hands atop his chest, raising his brows as he asked: “Is there _ anything _ I can trust you with?”

Daenerys hesitated for a moment, then she spoke: “I make a really good cuppa.”

Jon blinked: “Excuse me?”

Daenerys shyly look him in the eyes. “I make good tea. I can make coffee too. Good brews. You have one every morning, right? That’s something I can do.”

For a moment, they just sat staring at each other. Then, she started giggling, and Jon couldn't help but crack a smile. _ This is ridiculous, _ he thought, _ Olenna pestered me to get a student just for her to be making me coffee? This is ridiculous. _

He shook his head. “Look, Daenerys,” he said, “I will admit this - I was against getting a trainee, and you can probably see why. I am rather… _ particular _ about my work.”

“You don’t say,” she muttered.

“Anyway, how about we make a deal?” He folded his hands atop the desk as he looked up at her. “You want to learn about palaeontology? You come to my meetings, you sit and read my students’ papers with me, and you make that cup of coffee every now and again. In that way, I don’t have to engage, and you don’t have to worry about messing up. I’d say it’s a win-win situation.”

Daenerys bit her lower lip, and she looked like she wanted to admit something, but instead she just nodded. “Okay, Professor,” she spoke, her eyes on him kindly, “that’s a deal.”

* * *

At first, it was awkward.

Years of working on his own had conditioned Jon to loneliness. He was used to the quiet, used to knowing every little sound that his office made, from the creaking of the floorboards, the whistling from his rolling chair, to the groan of the radiator which set in at noon every day. What he wasn’t used to, however, was listening to someone else _ breathe. _

_ It is such a simple thing, _ Jon thought, glancing up from a paper every now and again only to see Daenerys. She was seated in the corner as she flipped through his books. _ To hear another person breathe, it should be so natural. _ Yet, it was the strangest sound to him in this office, 

Then, there was the polite chatter. It was a ‘good morning’ when they met, and ‘another cuppa?’ whenever either of them went to the kitchen, perhaps a ‘did you see the forecast today?’ Small, unnecessary chatter which at first cluttered up Jon’s brain and made him feel anxious.

_ Am I supposed to reply or just nod when she asks me how I am? _ he wondered. _ Am I supposed to return the question? Will it seem overkill if I do? Will it seem rude if I don’t? _ For once, he found himself rethinking his every word, struggling to come to grips with how social norms worked in a setting like this.

But perhaps most difficult was tea time. One Monday, as she followed him back from his lecture, chatting about what she’d learned, he had to stop her at his office door. “You know,” he said, “you’re not obligated to stay with me for the entire day. You only get paid for ten hours a week.

“I know,” she nodded, “but now it’s tea time, is it not? I did tell you that I make a good cuppa. Let me prove it.”

He could see the excitement in her eyes, yet he had to send her a sad smile. “Sorry, Daenerys,” he said, “some things I just can’t change, and tea time is one of them. It’s my private half an hour during which I collect my thoughts.”

“Oh,” she spoke and blinked, “I’m sorry, Professor, I did not realise.”

“No harm done,” he assured her, and before he slipped into his office, he said: “Let’s have coffee together tomorrow again. You do make a good brew.” And somehow, catching her smile before his door shut was the best part of his day.

* * *

Then, things turned friendly.

As Jon got used to having Daenerys around, he caught himself randomly chatting to her throughout the day. The first time it happened, he found himself surprised as the question slipped as easily from his lips as a mocking remark had before: “So, what do you do in your spare time?”

Even Daenerys looked surprised at the question, and she gave him a puzzled smile. “In my spare time?” she repeated and closed the book she was reading. She gazed into the air with ponder. “Well, I do like listening to music.”

“Spice Girls?” Jon asked, feeling a need to redeem himself, but she didn’t seem to catch on to his teasing tone.

“Spice Girls,” she nodded, “definitely.”

“Hold on - you’re not one of those girls who’s got a spice personality, are you?”

“Who hasn’t?” Daenerys smirked at him as she straightened up. “Come on, which girl am I most like?” she asked.

Jon furrowed his brows as he seemed to ponder. “Baby,” he then said, “because she always sees a silver lining in any situation.”

“Aha!” Daenerys pointed her finger at him excitedly. “See - even _ you _ know their personalities!”

Jon, feeling his face grow hot, quickly buried himself in another student’s paper and mumbled: “Get back to work.” Still, as he heard her chuckle, he felt his heart flutter.

It was around the same time that his mug was magically filled with coffee the moment he emptied it, and chocolate digestives seemed to appear at random whenever he had a craving for something sweet. Never before had he eaten so many biscuits through the day. Never before had he missed eating biscuits when Daenerys was not around to offer them. _ It is weird, _ he thought one Friday as he reached across the desk for a piece of paper and instead returned with a biscuit between his fingertips. _ I never even see her bring them in. _

* * *

Soon, things got flirty.

Jon couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment it happened. Perhaps it was when he started caring about doing his hair in the morning, slicking the unruly curls back and running a comb through his beard. Perhaps it was when her dresses grew shorter and her heels taller, her lipstick always perfectly applied. Perhaps it was when they started catching each other’s eyes from across the room, no words spoken but smiles shared. Perhaps it was when his heart started fluttering whenever he caught her sneaking in to another one of his lectures.

But it was certainly going on the day she leaned onto his desk, her eyes blinking at him as she said: “Professor, it’s just _ so hard._”

Jon stirred in his seat as he glanced up at her from above the rim of his glasses. “Uh, hard, miss?” he stuttered, then cleared his throat. _ You sound like a blubbering idiot, _ he scolded himself. “What is hard?”

“I have this essay I need to write about the development of the discipline of palaeontology, and it just baffles me.” She smacked her lips and sighed ever so softly, causing her bosom to rise and fall before his eyes.

Jon leaned back in his chair as he took in a deep breath through his nose. “Ah-hah?”

Daenerys ran her fingers through her hair, picking out a lock to twirl around her finger as she sent him a pained look. “My professor tells me to look at Leonardo da Vinci, but I just don’t understand why.”

Jon licked his lips. “Well,” he said and cleared his throat, “well, Leonardo da Vinci is actually believed to be a pioneer within palaeontology.”

“Really?” Daenerys said. She leaned onto his desk, her bottom resting on the edge as she eyed him with fascination: “Do tell me more.”

_ She is dumbing herself down on purpose, _ Jon thought, watching how her small nails picked at the hemline of her dress. It had started to ride up her thighs as she seated herself, giving him a nice view of her pink skin. _ There is no way she doesn’t know what she’s doing. No way. _ But, as he looked into her innocent eyes, he still wondered, _ or is there? _ He couldn’t take the chance. So he spoke with professionalism as he said:

“Yes, miss, you see - at the time, people believed fossils to be examples of life. Not the way we know of it, but as the earth itself trying to create creatures and failing, thereby producing fossils.” He gestured at the specimen on his desk, and Daenerys shrugged her shoulders a little.

“Fascinating,” she said, but there was a dullness to her voice.

Still, Jon pressed on: “So, Leonardo da Vinci was actually one of the first ones to speculate that the marks were not from animals being created, but from animals that actually _ lived. _ He also looked at the different layers within fossils to determine that he was dealing with prehistoric animals.”

“Fascinating,” Daenerys repeated, her lock still twirling around her finger. But before Jon could continue, she changed the subject swiftly by saying: “You sure do know a lot, don’t you, Professor?”

Jon felt his cheeks redden at her praise. “I do have a PhD,” he reminded her.

“Oh, that is true.” She licked her lips and cocked her head, her eyes twinkling as she asked: “Does that mean I should call your _ Doctor_?”

Jon felt his heart flutter, and the blood in his body started rushing south. He squirmed lightly in his chair, and his fingers searched the desk blindly as he tried to find something to grab on to. _ Don’t look at her, _ he thought, _ or you’ll find yourself unable to look away. _ Still, he gazed into her eyes all the same, and alluring glimpse to her violet orbs, and as his fingers finally made contact with something, it was the edge of her hand.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and quickly pulled away, “I was looking for-”

“-a biscuit?” she asked and waved a digestive.

_ Where did she get it from? _ Jon wondered, but still he nodded. “Yes, thank you,” he spoke and reached for it, but before he could claim it, Daenerys pushed it between his lips.

“I should get back to studying,” she said and slipped down from the desk, shortly correcting her dress before smiling, “Let me know if I can offer you any more sweets.”

Jon’s teeth bit down on the edge of the digestive as he watched her saunter back to her chair, seat herself perfectly proper with one leg crossing the other as she continued reading, and he thought, _ There are so many sweet things you could bring me. _

* * *

It was, however, a completely unrelated incident that finally pushed Jon over the edge.

A few weeks into their work together, Jon ran into Daenerys outside the toilets. She had just closed the door behind her as she saw him approach, and she stopped and smiled at him. “Professor,” she greeted, and Jon glanced at her with happy, surprised eyes.

“Oh, miss Targaryen,” he said and paused before her. He pushed his hands into his slacks as he asked: “How’re things?”

It had been a mundane Friday to say the least. Daenerys had balked on him that morning due to a study group meeting, so he’d made his own coffee and sulked in his office as he was unable to track down any biscuits. Now, with his first lesson of the day out of the way, he was ready to retreat to his office for tea break. But he couldn’t just walk past Daenerys as she stood waiting for him so prettily.

_ Don’t look, _ he told himself, keeping eye contact with her, although his eyes were begging for the chance to roam her body. She was in a tartan, sleeveless dress, the neck low and rounded, and every time he realised, he repeated, _ Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look. _

Daenerys shrugged. “I’m okay. The group meeting was a bit of a bore, but there won’t be another one for a month.”

“Is that so?” he said.

She nodded. “So I can _ really _ dedicate my time to helping you out, Professor.” She smiled, and he licked his lips as he felt his mouth water at the sight of her twinkling eyes.

_ She knows what she’s doing, _ he thought, _ she is playing me so perfectly. _ Jon pulled at his jumper, suddenly feeling warm. “Well, miss, that sounds wonderful. But I am-”

“-on your way to a tea break. I know,” she spoke, glancing at her watch, “it is 2:30pm after all.” She winked at him as she started walking past, glancing over her shoulder toward him. “I will see you on Monday, Professor.”

“See you-” Jon started when his eyes slipped. There were her buttocks, naked, her dress stuck in the top of her panties. For a moment, he paused, unable to speak, as his eyes just roamed her behind. Then, he felt his cheeks flush, and he called: “Miss!”

Daenerys smirked at him, her eyes twinkling teasingly as she stopped a few steps ahead. “Yes?”

“Your, uh, your dress-” he stuttered, “it’s…” He licked his lips, unable to speak the words, and because she hesitated, he caught himself thinking, _ Did she do it on purpose? _ But then, she glanced down, and her face turned bright red as she swiftly tucked the fabric from her panties to cover herself up.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, her voice soaked with embarrassment and her eyes darting around. She was trying to determine if anyone else had spotted the incident. “Oh my God, I am _ so sorry._”

“I saw nothing,” Jon lied smoothly and quickly offered her a wave of goodbye as he trudged down the hallway. At first, his steps were slow, normal, not wanting to draw attention. Then, as he turned the corner and was out of sight from her, he sped up, practically running to his office door as all blood in him pulsated.

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck, _ he thought, pushing his door open with eagerness. He shut it and locked it, his fingertips shaking as he hurried to the window, pulling the curtains. _ Fuck, fuck, fuck. _ He sank into his chair, his hands resting on the armrests for a moment as he just closed his eyes and breathed in, the image of Daenerys’ arse stuck on his eyelids. _ Fuck, fuck, fuck. _

He knew he was wrong to crave for her. Yet, the image in his mind had made his blood boil, and as he reached between his legs, he felt his cock press hard against the thin fabric of his trousers.

_ I shouldn’t be doing this, _ he thought, _ not to a student. _ Still, his hand moved at its own command, tracing the length of his cock down the leg of his trousers, and his other hand, as habit had it, sought under his fossil collection for the small, silver key he kept hidden there. As he found it, it was with a shaking hand that he unlocked the second drawer in his desk and pulled it open.

From there, Jon retrieved a glossy magazine, the front sporting a woman’s behind. Whoever she was, she was wearing nothing but a flimsy excuse for a panty, and Jon found his cock throb at the sight.

As he leaned back into his leather chair, he sighed and flipped open the magazine and, as he did every tea break, started jerking himself off to the images within.

They were all of women’s behinds. Some were raunchier than others; at first, they all had at least some sort of lingerie covering their parts. But then, as he went deeper in between the pages, the lingerie was removed, and soon they flaunted their naked sex to the viewer.

Jon grunted and pushed his hand into his slacks as he grabbed a hold of his cock. He tucked himself free of the fabric, making it easier for him to jerk himself off, and his eyes greedily ate up the images, the women spinning in his mind as if they were there with him.

Further he went, reaching the middle of the magazine where his favourite pages started; those with spanking. There were buttocks flushing bright red under the handling of a man’s rough hand, and those that carried pink marks from the light swap with a paddle. But on all of them, the women glanced toward the viewer, their lips parted in a perfect smile of pleasure, and Jon felt his eyes shut as he imagined he was the one making them smile like that.

Making _ Daenerys _ smile like that.

“Oh God,” he whispered, his cock pulsating at the mere thought. He dragged his hand quicker up and down his throbbing length, feeling it fill with blood between his fingertips. “She is so naughty.” The whispers from his lips were warm, and soon he felt his skin cover with sweat underneath his thick jumper. The more he worked himself, the warmer he got, and the warmer he got, the more he could imagine that she was spread across his lap, her legs kicking into the air as he slapped that round bum of hers, making her squirm.

_ You’re just begging for it, aren’t you? _ he thought, and in his mind she replied: yes, Professor, yes please! He smirked at the image in his head and arched his back, rubbing his thumb to the sensitive skin beneath his cockhead. His hips started jerking upwards, eager to get more friction, and his mind started racing ahead: _ You want me? Yes, Professor! You want me to fuck you? Yes, please, Professor! Then lean over my desk. Yes, Professor! _

Jon was working himself into such a heat that he almost didn’t hear the knocking on the door. But once a voice called out, he could not ignore it:

“Professor? Professor Snow?”

Jon blinked his eyes open, gasping in air as he recognised Daenerys’ voice. He stiffened in his seat, for a second just listening, and, as he heard nothing else, he thought, _ Just my imagination. _

But the voice returned: “Professor, is everything okay?”

Jon swore under his breath. His right hand was still at his pulsating cock, but his other swiftly pushed the magazine back into the drawer and shut it closed. With no other choice, he called: “Give me a second, miss!” and he bit his inner cheek as he forced his hard cock back into the restraint of his trousers.

_ Why can’t you just go soft when we’re about to be caught? _he thought, but of course the question alone made him throb once more.

As Jon awkwardly scooted his way through the dark room to the door, he wiped the sweat off his forehead, took in a deep breath, and then reached for the handle. As the door unlocked, he opened it slightly, just enough to peek out at Daenerys.

“Yes, miss?” he asked before his gaze fell on her hands. _ Oh, bless her heart- _

Daenerys was holding a tray of tea and biscuits. She held it up, clearly wanting to make sure he saw her offering, as she said: “Professor, I am so sorry about earlier. I feel _ really _ bad.” For once, there was no flirting in her tone, only honest embarrassment.

“No need to apologise,” Jon said, his voice strained. His mind was finding it hard to shift from imagining her bent over his knees to now seeing her before him, fully dressed and blushing. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I know you like your tea times alone, but please take this as an apology,” Daenerys still pressed on, pushing the tray at the small opening in the door.

“There really is no need.”

“_Please_,” she spoke, and her voice sounded almost desperate. “I just want to do something nice.”

Jon, unable to argue with her logic, gently opened the door a bit more as he grabbed at the tray. “Thank you,” he spoke, eyeing the pot of tea and the selection of biscuits. “That’s kind of you.”

“Sorry, were you napping?” Daenerys spoke.

Jon furrowed his brows, at first confused by her question, but then he realised that his office was still bathed in darkness. He glanced back at the closed curtains and then nodded: “Just a quick one before my next meeting,” he lied.

“Oh, so _ that’s _ what tea time is,” she said and blushed. “Well, now I feel stupid.”

“Don’t,” he said. _ Really, don’t_, he added in his thought and held up the tray with a little smile. “I will enjoy this.”

“Please do,” she said as she stepped away, her hands quickly brushing her behind as if checking herself before she turned. “See you on Monday.”

“See you Monday,” he said and watched her take off down the hallway. As she disappeared out of sight, he kicked the door closed with his foot before he balanced his way through the office to his desk. He placed the tray on the top, crossed his arms as he took in the contents of it, and then sighed, “I am a monster.”

_ Whilst I’m sitting here jerking off to the image of her, _ he thought, _ she’s preparing me tea and biscuits because she accidentally flashed herself. _ He pushed his fist to his mouth as he bit down on his knuckles, his eyes shut tight. _ There is something wrong with me. It’s not normal for a professor to lust so for his student. It’s wrong. It’s indecent. It’s disgusting. _ Jon blinked his eyes open, watching his crotch. His cock still throbbed beneath the fabric, and he thought, _ I need to do something before it’s too late, I need to get things back in order. _

That’s when an idea formed in his mind.

* * *

Monday morning, Jon presented Daenerys with a little electronic box. “This,” he said, “is a pager.”

“I know what a pager is, Professor,” Daenerys replied, although her voice remained perfectly polite. “They have been around for decades now. All my friends use them.”

_ Is that so, _ Jon thought, but he merely said: “That’s great - then you won’t have a problem using it.”

They were in his office. Jon was seated at the edge of his leather chair whilst Daenerys stood at attention by his desk, her face as keen as always. She was dressed in a smart, white blouse and a short, chequered skirt which seemed to ride up whenever she took a step. Jon almost wished he could ask her to do a little jog around the room. _ But that’s why I need control, _ he reminded himself as he handed her the pager.

“Just the other day, you had a study group,” Jon said, but Daenerys was quick to clarify:

“Just once a month, Professor. It will not get in the way of my duties.”

He sent her a pained smile. _ She is too sweet. It makes doing this all the harder. _ “Of course not,” he said, choosing his words with care, “but you are spending a lot of time with me. You do only get paid for ten hours,” he reminded her.

Daenerys bit her tongue and shrugged. “I like learning,” she said as she turned the pager between her fingers. Then, she glanced into his eyes, a little smile on her lips as she continued: “And I sense that you, Professor, have _ so much _ to teach me.”

Jon swallowed as his mouth went dry at once. He couldn’t break her gaze, but he fumbled to grab his mug off the table to have a swig of the brew. _ She is too bold, _ he thought, a trickle of sweat clinging onto his forehead, _ and I am too dense to sense if she’s teasing me or speaking with innocence. _ “Well, miss,” he said as he placed the mug down on his desk, finally averting his eyes, “my idea is simple; rather than have you hang out in my office when I have no work for you, I will page you on that,” he gestured at the device, “when I need your assistance, and you can then decide whether you have time to come or not.”

Daenerys turned the pager between her hands once more, tracing the buttons with her fingertips. As first she didn’t speak, just nodded slightly at his words, but then she asked: “Professor?”

Jon bit his inner cheek. “Yes?”

“Am I bothering you?” She cocked her head as she glanced somewhere around his collar, but not into his eyes.

Jon’s fingers instinctively fiddled with the knot of his tie. “What makes you say that?” he asked and licked his lips.

“It’s only that I thought things were going so well,” she explained. “I know I was a pain at first, and that you probably didn’t like having your routine messed up, but-” She paused, taking in a deep breath, “but I thought we’d almost become _ friendly_.”

_ It is not that, _ Jon thought bitterly, feeling his chest clench, _ it’s only that I’m abusing your friendliness for my own pleasure. _ His gaze shortly slipped to his drawer, securely locked with the key hidden away, and he too breathed in deeply. “Miss,” he said, “I promise this is just to keep things running smoothly.” But, as her eyes still glanced sadly at his desk, he felt himself grow hot with a need to explain, and the lie slipped so easily from his lips: “Dr Tyrell believes it’s _ unprofessional _ how much time we’re spending together.”

At this, Daenerys lifted her gaze to meet with his. “Does she?” she asked vexed.

Caught in the web of his own lie, Jon could only nod. He sunk back into his chair with a grimace on his face. It was caused by the taste of his own words, but it looked more like he despised the situation itself. “Yes,” he nodded, “she doesn’t want me to take advantage of your good nature. In this way, we can assure that you have time to study and be with friends, and I can take better care to assign you meaningful work.” He slipped out a cigarette from his slacks, lit it and blew out the smoke as he admitted: “That’s something I’ve not been very good at, I’m afraid.”

“That is true,” Daenerys spoke boldly. Her hand closed around the pager, and she gave him an honest nod. “Let’s try it.”

“Good!” Jon clapped his hands together as he stood up. “So, the way it works-”

“I know how it works,” Daenerys reminded him. “I know all the codes. 52 means to hurry up, 321 means please reply.”

“911 is what I’ll use when I need your help,” Jon said, “so don’t be alarmed.”

“833 means beep me,” Daenerys continued easily, a smirk on her lips.

Jon admitted: “I didn’t know there were that many codes.”

“Oh Professor,” Daenerys said, “we students use them all the time.”

The way she said _ Professor _ and _ students _ as complete separate entities made him feel ancient. _ We are only seven years apart, _ he reminded himself as he glanced into her eyes. “Right,” he mumbled, “what other ones do I need to know? What’s 1?”

“That means please,” she said.

“77?”

“Sunday.”

Jon picked at random: “143?”

“I love you.”

Jon blinked as he stared into her eyes, and his cheeks went bright red. “Excuse me?”

Daenerys repeated: “I love you,” but, as she noted the way he was staring at her, her own cheeks grew pink. “That’s what it means, Professor,” she swiftly clarified, “143 means I love you.”

“Oh,” Jon said, his heart skipping a beat.

Daenerys eyed the floor shyly. “Yes,” she just mumbled, seemingly at a loss for words herself.

Jon scratched his neck. For some reason, he suddenly felt very warm, and despite knowing the smell of the flowers would drift into his office, he almost wanted to open the window just to feel the breeze. “Well,” he said, then stopped as he had no words to speak. “Well, I, uhm…”

“Yes,” Daenerys muttered again, but she seemed to pull herself together more quickly than he. At least she popped the pager into her bag as she gave him a small smile. “Thank you, Professor,” she said, her cheeks still pink, “I will wait for your beep.”

“Yes, miss, thank you,” Jon said and watched her leave his office. As the door shut, he hid his face behind his hands and let go of a long, excruciating groan.

_ I am such an idiot, _ he thought, embarrassment running through his body. But, as he lowered his hands, he also could not help but smile a little. _ But she doesn’t seem to mind. _

* * *

At first, his plan seemed to work.

Without Daenerys in his office first thing in the morning, Jon found himself able to sip his coffee and collect his thoughts in peace. Surely, it felt strangely _ lonely _ to be grading papers on his own with no one around to comment. Whenever he came across a particularly good paragraph, he found himself looking up as he spoke: “Miss, you’d like this-” only to find himself alone in the room.

But it also put a keenness in him he hadn’t felt since he studied for his own degree; he was eager to complete his work and move on to other projects, noting down ideas of things he could have Daenerys help him with which were actually _ useful_.

As such, he found himself inviting her on trips to the university’s collection of fossils, letting her come up with suggestions as to how they could be rearranged. He found himself suggesting reading material to her based on her own papers and not his need to brag. And at lunchtime, he invited her to eat with him in the cafeteria, giving her the opportunity to meet colleagues of his and expand her network.

It was one such day, as he watched her chatter away with Professor Tywin Lannister about the concept of good and evil, that Olenna approached him.

Without an invitation, she settled next to him as she spoke: “Looks like things are going well, Professor?”

Jon glanced at her as he bit down onto his apple. “Dr Tyrell,” he greeted her dryly. “What a surprise.”

“You don’t have to drown me in pleasantries,” she said. She was sipping a cup of tea. The warm smell of rose seeped across Jon’s face, making his throat itch, and he wrinkled his nose as he said:

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“I must admit that I am stunned,” Olenna spoke, her gaze slipping from Jon to Daenerys. Jon too followed her gaze, watching his student desperately trying to convince Tywin of _ something. _ “When you picked her out from the bunch, I thought things would never work out between you. I imagined it would be only a week before you showed up at my office, demanding another student.”

“I guess you owe me an apology,” Jon sniffed.

Olenna smirked. “Don’t push your luck, Professor,” she said, but when her gaze landed back on Daenerys, she sighed. “She’s come so far.”

Jon peeked at her from the corners of his eyes as he chewed his apple. “Has she?” he spoke.

“At her age, after all she’s been through, to remain positive and reach so high?” She shook her head. “It’s remarkable.”

Jon rolled the apple in the palm of his hands, contemplating her words. “I’m sorry, Dr,” he said, “I am not sure I follow?”

Olenna raised her brows as she looked at him with faked shock: “Oh Professor, do you not remember her application?”

Jon’s cheeks reddened. “Don’t play me for a fool,” he grumbled, “You know very well I didn’t even read her name before picking her.”

“She is the sister to Viserys Targaryen,” she spoke, “Surely you’ve heard of his name?”

Jon paused for a moment, searching his mind for any glimpse of recognition, but, at coming up with nothing, merely shrugged.

Olenna sighed: “You really ought to come to those board meetings once in a while.” She sipped her tea, taking her time to let the taste linger on her tongue, before she continued: “Viserys Targaryen is one of our biggest sponsors. His generous donations have single-handedly paid for the new library building. Did you never see the plaque?”

At her words, Jon blinked, still not taking it all in, and he shook his head. “No,” he admitted, “I have not.” He narrowed his eyes as he leaned closer to her. “But if he’s so rich, why has she been struggling to pay for her degree?”

“Because he’s not supporting her,” Olenna said plainly.

“He’s not?”

She shook her head. “Goodness no, Professor. She’s studying _ history_. Viserys is a man of _ science_. Anything that doesn’t result in an immediate gain of wealth and power is of no interest to him.”

“You mean to tell me,” Jon spoke slowly, his words slightly heated as he said them out loud, “that her brother has enough money to build a three-floor library, but won’t support his sister in learning about the past?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Olenna said, her voice neutral. She sipped her tea and sighed: “Daenerys is a top student. She always completes her work to perfection. No one has a single complaint about her work ethic.”

“Then why the hell is she stuck with me?” Jon asked before he could stop himself. He didn’t mean to downgrade his own experience, but it was true - he was known across campus as the sour, lonely Professor who grunted more than he spoke. “She should be studying under anyone else. Professor Lannister,” he said, gesturing at Tywin, “or Doctor Mormont,” he said, nodding at Jorah who sat at the end of the table, longingly glancing toward Daenerys, “or even Doctor Tarly. Anyone but _ me._”

“She wanted to study under anyone but you,” Olenna snapped, glaring into Jon’s eyes. As he silenced, she lowered her voice: “Look at them all, Professor. They are happy to talk with her, but they would not dare to go against Viserys’ wishes and actually support her openly. They all hope he’ll sponsor them one day. You, however,” she quirked her brows, “are so incapable of social interaction that it does not matter anyway. I'd be surprised if Viserys even knew of your existence at all.” With that, she returned to sipping her tea in silence, and Jon leaned back in his chair, baffled.

_ She is a top student, _ he thought, looking at Daenerys. _ She is a go-getter who deserves the best, but she is stuck with me. _ As she turned and caught his eyes, she smiled so brightly that his heart hurt. He had to avert his eyes. _ I am a fool for thinking she enjoyed my teachings. There is nothing I can offer her that she wants. _

No wonder that she always hesitated when he mentioned palaeontology, he realised. She had no interest in his dry lectures on dinosaurs or extinct plants or fossils of seashells. She merely entertained him for a chance to earn cash, and he’d been fooling himself to think that she actually enjoyed his company.

As she approached him and chirped: “Ready for your lecture, Professor?” he could barely stand to look into her eyes.

“I’ll manage today,” he said, grabbing his briefcase. “You take the afternoon off.”

Daenerys cocked her head. “Are you sure, Professor? I really feel like my note taking has improved.” She opened her notebook for him to see. “Look - all bullet-points!”

Jon glanced from the neat pages to her eyes. She was smiling, and he was pouting. “It’s okay,” he assured her once more, “it’s a boring one today. I’ll page you when I need you.”

“Okay,” she said, but there was a glimmer of confusion to her eyes. As he trudged through the cafeteria, his feet heavy, he heard her call: “See you soon, Professor!” And he thought,

_ You don’t have to lie to me, Daenerys. _

_ .. _


	2. Chapter 2

..

From that day onward, Jon stopped paging Daenerys. He didn’t ask for her help in the morning, bringing in his own brew. He didn’t ask for her assistance with grading papers, silently reading every page himself. He didn’t invite her to lunch, instead gulping down his sandwich as he walked the hallways. He didn’t ask her to lectures, teaching each class with a detached voice. And he certainly didn’t let her image linger in his head at tea time when his hand worked his cock with furor, the magazine in front of him worn.

In fact, he didn’t think of anyone at tea time as he felt his balls itch with need, but his cock unable to come.

“Fucking hell, come on,” he whispered under his breath as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his cockhead and staring at the front image of the magazine. It normally worked. But recently it hadn’t. “Come _ on!_”

It was Friday afternoon. It had been two weeks without Daenerys. Two excruciating weeks.

_ She looked so sad, _ Jon thought and closed his eyes, remembering how she’d passed him in the hallway that morning. She’d parted her lips as if to speak, but he had hurried on, pretending not to have seen her. _ She looked like she wanted me to see her, speak to her, perhaps invite her into my office. _ For some reason, the thought alone made his cock throb, and he groaned as he squeezed around his fat member and reminded himself, _ It’s inappropriate. _

Yet, it was the thought of Daenerys that got his hand working again. As he bit his lip and sunk deeply into the leather of his chair, his imagination started working:

In his head, he did not pass her. In his head, she waited at his door, asking to speak with him.

‘Professor Snow,’ she said, and his name sounded so sweet from her plump lips, ‘I fear I have been a very bad girl.’

‘Is that so, miss,’ he replied. ‘What would you have me do about it?’

‘Whatever I deserve,’ she urged, leaning over his desk as she pulled up her skirt, presenting her perfect arse. ‘Please, Professor, I have been _ so bad._’

_ I am a pervert, _ Jon thought as his hand started working quicker, running up and down his cock with haste. His cockhead was pulsating, precum spilling down onto his fingers, making his cock slick. _ I am so, so bad. _

But not as bad as Daenerys was in his mind; her hands on his desk, her back arched, her bum turning pink under his slaps. She moaned and wriggled and begged, saying things such as, ‘Yes, Professor, one more please, Professor’ and he obliged, spanking her bottom until she was sore.

“Is that what you need?” he whispered, his cock throbbing lively between his fingers. He was coming to an edge, his balls pulling together for the first time in days. He groaned: “Is that what you need, miss? A broody Professor to point out your lies, and show you in your place?” And in his head it was _ exactly _ what she needed, her lips smirking at him when he tucked himself out, positioning himself at her behind, and-

_ Fuck! _ Jon curled forward as he came, cum shooting into the palm of his hands. He gasped and groaned, leaning all the way until his sweaty forehead rested atop his desk, and he gulped in air. _ Fuck. _ As he glanced between his legs, cum slipping from his fingertips, dripping all the way to his slacks, he thought, _ I need help. _

* * *

“You need help!” Olenna snapped, slapping her hands onto her desk.

Jon stirred at her words and watched the tips of his shoes. “Whatever with?” he challenged.

“Your behaviour, your mind, your… everything!” Her voice was exasperated. “I really thought better of you, Professor - when I shared Daenerys’ woes with you, I expected you would show her sympathy, not shut her out.”

_ Aha, _ Jon thought and clenched his jaw, her words hitting him like needles, _ that’s what this meeting is about. _

In comparison to his own office, Olenna’s place was spotless. Her shelves were neatly arranged in alphabetical order, nothing cluttered her windowsill, and even her desk only contained the bare essentials; one pen, one notebook, one phone. The only slither of her life was a framed picture of her granddaughter on the shelf behind her. Jon found himself staring at the girl to avoid looking into Olenna’s harsh eyes.

“I have done my best,” Jon assured her. “She’s helped me with meetings, and I’ve shown her our archives, and I’ve supported her in expanding her network.” He chose his words with care, making sure each carried a professional value. “I have ensured that she has the skills necessary to succeed in whatever line of work she may choose.”

“You’re only succeeding at being a jerk,” Olenna spoke plainly. As she stood up, her face covered the picture, and Jon found himself staring into her brown eyes. Her mouth was twisted in annoyance, and her cheeks were going a bit red.

_ Or is that just rouge? _ he wondered, his face as neutral as ever.

“Whether you want to or not, she’ll be with you for another five weeks before the holidays,” Olenna remarked. “In that time, I need to see you make an effort to make her feel welcome once more. I do not care what it takes, I just want to see her back on her feet working again.” She tapped her finger to her desk, causing Jon to stir: “Is that clear, Professor?”

“Clear,” he nodded, although he added in his thoughts, _ you sly old witch. _ “Whatever happens after the holidays?”

Olenna sighed. “The faculty will have to decide that. I gather a long interview with Daenerys will clarify a few things for us.” She glanced at him and, as she continued, her voice was soaked in warning: “It is not just your reputation that could be spoilt. Think of your job, Professor. You have it nice here. Don’t force me to make a decision I would not like to make.”

Jon swallowed. “Yes, Doctor,” he spoke, and for once he felt her words ring in his head. _ I cannot afford to lose my job. Not over some stupid trainee session. _ He gave her a nod, turned, and left the room.

As he walked the hallways back to his own office, he wondered how to go about contacting Daenerys again. It would seem odd to suddenly invite her back to read papers and sit in on meetings after such a long absence, that he knew for certain. _ She will ask me what went wrong, _ he thought, _ she will wonder what she did. _ The thought alone made his hands clench into fists, and he swore under his breath.

_ How can I possibly explain to her that it is not her, but me who’s the problem? How can I explain that I think of her during tea time? How can I explain… _ Jon paused, _ How can I explain that I want to spend my day with her, and only her? _

As he turned the next corner, he realised that he had to think quicker than usual, because there she stood.

“Miss,” Jon spoke flustered as he laid eyes on her. She was not dressed for work; her baggy overalls were only kept up with one strap, revealing her pink tee beneath. Her hair was pulled back into a matching pink scrunchie, and from her lobes hung two hoop earrings. _ She’s cute, _ Jon thought bitterly, _ whatever happened to that dress-code? _

“Professor,” Daenerys said, but for once she wasn’t smiling. She seemed almost annoyed.

“Whatever are you doing here?” Jon asked, trying to take on a casual tone as he stopped before her. His eyes slipped down her body, then quickly went back to her face where he met her violet eyes.

“Doctor Tyrell told me you needed my help,” she said.

“She did?” Jon thought back to Olenna in the office. _ How could she get to her so quickly? _ he wondered. But it was as if Daenerys had read his mind - she held up the pager as she spoke:

“She contacted me on this. Seems like she knows the codes too. 911.” She shrugged. “Here I am. How can I help?”

_ How indeed? _ Jon thought as he opened the door and let them inside.

The time was 2:46pm. The meeting with Olenna had eaten into his tea time, and Jon’s body was not pleased with the turn of events. As he seated himself in his leather chair, he felt his cock throb as it readied itself for another jerk. He tried to twist his mind to something unsexy, like biscuit crumbs in bed or the scent of roses or the annoying, scratching sounds that radios make when changing channels. Still, he found his mind wander back to Daenerys as he watched her walk about the office, looking at everything with a bored expression.

“How can you help,” Jon spoke out loud, as if hearing the words would help him decide. He pushed himself beneath the desk, keeping his crotch in the shadows as he folded his hands on his desk. “How can you help.”

Daenerys turned to face him, her hands in the pockets of her overalls, and she raised her brows as she said. “Professor, can I speak in honest?”

Jon swallowed, but he found himself nodding.

“I know you have been avoiding me.”

Jon swallowed once more. “That is not true.”

“Uh-huh?” She cocked her head, her ponytail falling over her shoulder. “I bet you’re going to say that you’ve been _ busy._”

“I have,” Jon insisted.

“So busy that you couldn’t speak to me in the hallways?”

“I have been exceptionally busy,” Jon promised.

“Whatever with?”

“Work.”

“What work?”

Jon’s gaze slipped to the drawer shortly. “Private work.”

“You know what I think?” Daenerys asked, but she didn’t wait for Jon to urge her on. She walked over, placed her hands atop his desk, and leaned down as she glanced into his eyes. Her own were glimmering as she said: “I think you heard about my brother, and now you’ve got cold feet.”

Her words were like a gift to Jon. At once, everything settled in his brain, and he easily gave into the lie. “Oh no,” he spoke with faked shock, “You figured me out.”

Daenerys narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t know before, did you? When you first picked me? You treated me like any other student.”

“I did,” Jon nodded. _ Almost, _ he added in his thoughts.

“Now you’re scared of repercussions. Scared that Viserys will never fund any of your projects.”

“What a load of bull,” Jon spat before he could stop himself. His brash words caused her to blink, and her harsh attitude melted off her face at once.

“What?” she said.

Jon bit his lip. He wished he could swallow his words again and just ride with her explanation of the events, but it was too late. So he sighed: “A load of bull that is.” He ran his fingers through his messy locks, causing them to jump around his head, and he grabbed his glasses from his vest and slipped them on. “I don’t care for sponsors,” he spoke in earnest. “Of course, money is good. It funds expeditions and research that would never be else. But I am not an asslicker.”

Daenerys covered her mouth before she could giggle at his words. “_Professor!_”

Jon sent her a tired smile. “Look, I know I have been distant, it’s just…” He paused, wondering how he could twist the truth. “It’s just…”

“You want us to remain professional,” Daenerys finished his sentence.

He breathed in relief at her words. “Yes,” he nodded, “that’s exactly it.”

“I understand, Professor,” she spoke. “I am sorry - I fear I am at fault in this too. I did take a certain liking to our, ah, friendship.” She bit onto the nail of her thumb as she hesitated at her last words, and Jon felt himself flush.

_ Am I imagining this? _ he thought, _ or is she too struggling to decide what relation we have? _ As he watched her, she started nibbling her nail, and then, slowly, her thumb sunk in between her lips as their gazes locked. Jon felt his cock stir. _ I am not imagining it, _ he thought, _ she is playing me like a fiddle. _

Jon cleared his throat as he forced himself to look down. “So it seems this has all been one big misunderstanding,” he spoke, his voice slightly shaking. “What do you say we start over?”

“That would be lovely, Professor,” Daenerys said. Before he could come up with a task, she latched on to the meaning of his words with earnest as she presented him with her hand. “Nice to meet you, Professor Snow,” she spoke with perfect innocent whilst her eyes twinkled, “I am _ so excited _ to work under you.”

As Jon closed his hand around hers, the wetness of her thumb settling on his palm, he stuttered: “Miss Targaryen, a pleasure.” _ And what a pleasure it’ll be. _

* * *

It was then their little routine started up again, but they skipped the period of awkwardness as well as friendliness and went straight to flirting.

Jon would catch Daenerys looking at him as much as he looked at her. She would smile whenever he asked her a question, and he would flush when she questioned his answer, forcing him to remember old sources and theorems. When they met in the hallway, surrounded by peers, they always greeted each other professionally, but at times, Jon noted, their hands would brush, and when he glanced back over his shoulder, she would meet his gaze with a deep smile.

_ She is so cute, _ he would think, whenever she tripped over the threshold and almost landed on the carpeted floor. _ She is so clever, _ he would think, when she showed him her papers marked to perfection. _ She is so sexy, _ he would think, when she wore her skirts so short he could almost see the outline of her buttocks.

Before he knew it, his sour ponders and remarks were replaced with happy thoughts. When he headed home at night, he found himself looking forward to waking up and seeing her again, and when he saw her, he looked forward to talking to her, and when he talked to her, he couldn’t wait for her lips to finish speaking so he could ponder upon all she said.

_ I am a fool, _ he kept thinking whenever he dialled the number to her pager, urging her to drop all she was doing and hurry to his office, only for him to come up with excuses on the spot such as: “I need a coffee,” or, “Could you talk me through your schedule?”, or, “I only have red pens. Please get me a blue one.” But he couldn’t stop, because no matter how she rolled her eyes at him at times, she always complied with a teasing smile, and her witty remarks such as:

“Seems like you’re constantly in the need of a woman’s touch,” always left him tingling.

But she also did save his ass at times, like the Friday he was running late for a lecture.

“This is very unlike me,” he said as they hurried down the hallway toward the hall, “I am always on time. _ Always._”

“What happened to your perfect schedule?” Daenerys teased. She was at his side, clinging onto paperwork and a cup of tea that she hadn’t been able to finish. She was trying to sip it whilst running, the sound of her heels echoing down the hall.

Jon flushed: “I guess my watch must have stopped.” He pulled the sleeve of his shirt down to cover his wristwatch that was ticking away at a perfect pace. How could he admit that he had in fact gotten so engrossed in her latest essay that he forgot to count the minutes ticking down?

_ It is peculiar how someone so young can write with such determination, _ he thought, stopping outside the doors to the lecture hall. _ She really is going places. _ Jon took in a deep breath, ran his fingers through his hair, and turned to her. “How do I look?” he asked.

He sensed her glancing at his messy curls, askew glasses, and jumper vest dirtied with ashes before she nodded. “Like usual.”

“Good.” Jon grabbed the papers out of her hands and started flicking through them. “Right, so I need this one,” he pulled one out,” and this one,” he pulled another, “and - hold on…” Jon turned the pages between his hands as all the colour drained from his face. “One is missing.”

“Don’t panic,” Daenerys said, “which one?”

“The one on, well, the one by Doctor Tarly on, the one on,” he stuttered, unable to collect his thoughts. _ This is why I stick to my schedule, _ he reminded himself again, feeling panicked sweat form at his hairline.

“One more time,” Daenerys urged.

Jon took in a deep breath. “The one on the classification of ancient species,” he finally said, sighing as the words left his lips.

“Where is it?”

“Not here,” Jon spoke, flipping through the pages.

Daenerys rolled her eyes and sipped her tea. “No, Professor,” she said, “I mean, where in your office? I will go get it.”

“It’s in my drawer,” he said, “it’s bound in blue and black, and it has a giant drawing of an eoraptor on front.”

Daenerys blinked. “A _ what_?”

“A _ dinosaur,_” Jon clarified.

Daenerys nodded. She shoved her cup of tea into his hands. “Leave it with me,” she smiled and pushed the door open to allow him in, “I’ll be right back.”

Jon sent her a thankful smile before he entered the lecture hall. As he hurried his way to the podium, he felt hot under the watchful eyes of the students, especially as he carelessly dumped his paperwork atop the desk and glanced across the hall.

“Afternoon,” he said, taking a sip from Daenerys’ mug before he remembered what it was. He grimaced at the taste of tea and swiftly put it down. “Good to see you’re all on time.”

“Makes one of us,” someone said, and a snicker broke out.

Jon wiped sweat off his forehead as he sent them all a bitter smile. “Right, enough of that. Please have your pens ready. I’ve brought some interesting slides about ancient _ seashells._” As the snicker was replaced with groaning, Jon pulled out the plastic slides and started preparing the projector. In the same, the door swung open once more, and he glanced up and met Daenerys’ eyes. “Ah, miss, thank you so much.”

At first, he was smiling, holding out his hand in anticipation of the document, but as Daenerys started walking the steps to the podium, he noticed that something was amiss. Her face was completely pale, her eyes wide and shocked, and her lip quivered a little as she handed over the papers.

“Here you go, Professor,” she said, her voice small.

Jon blinked as he took it. He glanced between the audience and Daenerys. “Hey,” he said in a whisper before she could turn to leave, “Is everything okay?” He took a step down from the podium, trying to catch her eyes, but she was desperately looking at anything but him.

“All good, Professor,” she promised. “I will be on my way, I have a… study group meeting,” she said.

“Now?” He glanced at his watch. “I thought you had the afternoon free?”

“Something came up,” she said and shortly met his gaze, and it was as if a switch had been turned within her, for her cheeks drowned in red at once. “I’m sorry. I will see you Monday, Professor,” she said and hurried out of the room.

Jon flipped the document between his hands as he slowly returned to the projector, his mind puzzled. _ That was odd, _ he thought, placing it onto the desk before shaking his head. “Anyway, so about seashells-”

* * *

It was Monday morning that Jon realised something had changed.

At first, everything seemed the same; he arrived at 8am, coffee in hand, and Daenerys was waiting for him outside his office, looking smart as always in a short, black skirt and thin, white turtleneck.

“Good morning, miss,” he said, and she nodded at him:

“Good morning, Professor,” and he let them inside, ready for a day of work. Only, as he settled in his leather chair, he sensed something was amiss.

Instead of settling down with her homework, Daenerys seemed to linger at his desk, her fingertips brushing across the old wood.

Jon cleared his throat. “How was your weekend?” he asked politely, and Daenerys sighed softly.

“Oh, it was rather lonely,” she spoke.

“How come?”

“My friends were all busy, and no one was at home. I was quite bored in my bedroom by myself.”

Jon licked his lips as he tried to read her face, but it was perfectly innocent. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, unable to find a better reply. “You looked a bit off on Friday. Are you feeling okay today?”

“Oh I am feeling just fine,” Daenerys said. She turned to face him, her skirt fluttering at the movement, and she rested her hands at her back as she spoke: “You could say I whipped myself back into shape. My mind is as clear as day.”

Jon’s brows furrowed at her peculiar choice of words. Still, he nodded: “Uh-huh.”

“I must admit something,” she said, “I did forget your biscuits.”

Jon’s stomach growled at her words, but he merely waved her off. “That is quite alright. You are not obliged to bring them, miss.”

“So I have not earned a slap on the wrist?” she queried.

“Of course not,” he said, his voice slightly amused. Jon leaned his head down, watching her over the brim of his glasses. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“How do you like my skirt?” Daenerys asked. She twirled on the spot, the fabric fluttering about her.

Jon felt his lips go dry. He licked them incessantly. “It’s… lovely,” he said, his eyes catching sight of her panties as she spun.

Daenerys stopped at once, her hands on her back as she rocked her shoulders lightly. “I love it too, Professor,” she said, “it is _ spanking new._”

Jon’s tongue could not stop working his lips. The words settled in his mind: whipped, slap, spanking. _ It is not on purpose, _ he assured himself, although his cock already stirred. As he looked into Daenerys’ eyes, she glanced back at him boldly, a deep smile on her lips. _ It can’t be. It can’t be on purpose. She doesn’t know. How could she know? _

Just before he had a chance to speak in err, she seated herself in the corner chair as she pulled out her homework. “Well,” she said, “I better get started on this.”

Jon glanced from her fleshy thighs to her white socks, neatly pulled up almost to her knees, and he mumbled: “Yes, I ought to get to work too.” But still his mind churned, and his cock stirred, and he begged himself: _ Wait until tea time to think more of this. _

* * *

That day, tea time could not come soon enough.

It seemed that whatever subject he spoke of with Daenerys ended up leading his thoughts astray. The weather was _ painfully wet, _ and her tea caused her to _ smack _ her lips in delight, and oh Professor, how she couldn’t help but to _ reveal _ her love for this, that and the other. At lunch, she said she was feeling _ sore _ after a run over the weekend, and how she needed a softer chair not to _ ache. _

By the time Jon’s first lecture of the day was finished, it was with long steps that he walked from the lecture hall to his office. Never had the walk seemed so long. Never had he been more determined to lock himself up and get it off.

_ She is such a naughty girl, _ he thought to himself as he grabbed at the handle, his fantasies already working, _ she will need a proper punishment for her impertinence. _

As the door swung open, he was surprised to find himself in darkness. The curtains had been pulled, leaving the room cloaked in shadows, and though he blinked several times, he found himself unable to discern the shape of his desk in the dark.

_ Peculiar, _ he thought, his fingers searching the light-switch on the wall, _ I am sure I left them pulled before heading out. _

Just then, before he could locate the switch, the lamp on his desk turned on. There, seated in his leather chair with her feet upon his desk, was Daenerys.

Jon froze in the doorway, baffled to see her at his desk, and he didn’t even notice at first that she was paying him no heed, her eyes focused on something in her lap. Then, as he slowly stepped inside, causing the floorboards to creak, her eyes gazed up at him, and she sent him an alluring smile.

“Hello, Professor,” she spoke, “I have been waiting for a long time.”

Jon swallowed. “What,” he started, but he paused to clear his throat as he thought his voice too weak. “Whatever are you doing, miss?”

“Mondays are such a bore,” she said and stretched her arms. Her movement caused her bosom to rise, and Jon couldn’t help but stare at her breasts. “I had to entertain myself,” she continued and reached into her lap. She grabbed something and threw it at him, and as Jon’s eyes caught sight of the magazine by his feet, he felt his face go bright red.

There, on the front, was the pair of buttocks he normally jerked off to.

The moment he realised, the papers fell from his hands, his mug of coffee spilled across the carpet, and he swiftly turned to grab at the door-handle. With shaking hands, he closed and locked the door, hoping no one had heard nor seen anything, and he swore under his breath, thinking, _ Whatever did I do to deserve this? _

Daenerys chuckled. “Professor Snow,” she said, her voice soaked with amusement, “who would have ever thought that you were into those kinds of things.”

“That is private,” Jon said, lacking a better defence. He grabbed the magazine off the floor, crinkling it in his hands as he glared at her. His heart was beating in his throat. Sweat had started to cling onto the small hairs on his nape. He gestured at her with the magazine, saying: “You shouldn’t even be in here without me present.”

“Should I not?” she asked and blinked innocently. She slowly pulled one leg from his desk, then the other, resting her shoes onto the edge of his chair as she wrapped her arms around them. The position gave him a clear view of her thighs, all the way down between her legs where he could see the outline of her white panties. “I could’ve sworn you asked me to do that before.”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Jon groaned, still gesturing with the paper. He forced his eyes away from her panties to her innocent face, and he started pacing back and forth, unable to walk nearer to the desk. He wanted to, but something in him held him back. “I’d never-”

“That’s right!” Daenerys gasped in fake surprise as if she only just remembered something. “It was last Friday, was it not? You told me to search your office drawers for a document.” She cocked her head, her eyes ponderous as she said: “Yes, I believe that was it. Some work by Doctor Tarly?”

“You didn’t have to _ unlock _ anything to get to it,” Jon protested.

Daenerys clicked her tongue. “Oh dear, did I do something wrong, Professor?” she asked. Her tone of voice was so painfully sweet that Jon felt his cock throb in delight.

_ Not now, _ he told himself, though he couldn’t make the throbbing stop, _ Not. Now. _

“See, I just wanted to be a good student and do you proud. So when I couldn’t find the document, I panicked!” She rested her chin onto her knees as she sighed: “Imagine how worried I was, Professor, how I stressed that I could not help you. So when I came across a locked drawer and saw your key-”

“Hah!” Jon turned to her, a smirk on his lips. “You’re lying. You couldn’t have _ seen _ my key, because my key was hidden. You would’ve had to be going through my things.”

“I did,” Daenerys admitted openly, “on the first day I was here. I rearranged your whole office, did you forget? That key of yours was poorly hidden under these fossils.” She nodded at the collection on his desk, and Jon thought,

_ I am such an idiot. I didn’t even move it. _

Jon dropped the magazine to the ground as he held out his hands. “So what happens now, miss?” he asked. “You’re going to turn me in because you figured out what tea time stands for?”

“You believe me dumb,” Daenerys said and pouted her lips as if hurt. “I figured that out the first day I caught you jerking off.”

Jon flushed. “You _ never _ caught me jerking off,” he assured her.

A smile crossed her lips. A wicked one. “Oh, but I did,” she said, her voice teasing. “I was honestly so naive. I just wanted to make your tea time pleasant with biscuits. So imagine my surprise when you opened the door, the office completely dark, your eyes unfocused, and your cheeks all red-”

“I wasn’t jerking off,” Jon interrupted with insistence. “I wasn’t.”

“-and that cock between your legs throbbing against the fabric of your slacks.” She smiled the last sentence, her gaze seeking his crotch. “Just like now.”

Jon glanced down and grimaced at himself as he realised that he was indeed painfully hard once more. It showed; his fat cock was pushing against his trousers, begging to be let out, and it was hard to remain professional now that Daenerys had drawn his attention to it.

“So what happens?” he asked, feeling defeated.

“I don’t know, Professor,” Daenerys said as she stood up. She slowly walked around the desk, her fingers brushing across the dark wood, before she let go, reaching over to instead grab a hold of his tie.

Jon looked down in surprise as she tucked it free of his jumper vest, wrapped the fabric around her hand, and pulled his face down until he was staring straight into her eyes. Like that, she slowly walked backwards, pulling him with her as she licked her lips.

“Oh, I just don’t know, Professor,” she sighed, “after all, I have been such a bad girl. I just can’t even imagine the _ punishment _ you must have planned for me.”

Jon sucked in a sharp breath. “Miss-” he spoke, reaching up to close his hand around hers, but she let go before he could. Instead, she reached into his hair, pushing her fingertips through his messy curls as she continued:

“How many rules did I break? I went into your office uninvited, I looked through your things without being asked, and now I tease you like you’re my peer.” She gasped as her buttocks pressed to the edge of the desk, and she slowly pushed herself up to sit on it, her gaze never once breaking with his.

“You want to be punished?” Jon heard himself ask. Their faces were so close - he could feel her breath slip over his face as she sighed:

“Professor, it is not about what I _ want_.” She let her hands slip from his hair to his back, and she urged him closer, making him step between her legs. “It is about what I _ deserve._”

That was all it took to break Jon’s mind. Whatever restraint he’d had, whatever pride he’d held onto from the moment he saw her - it all just vanished at once.

Before she knew it, he grabbed her around the head as he kissed her deeply, his tongue pushing between her surprised lips. She gasped to his mouth, and he swallowed her sounds, tasting her teeth and tongue at once. His hands, shaking for a touch, searched down her body, across her breasts, past her stomach and all the way to her legs. He pushed his fingertips up beneath the hemline of her skirt. Her skin was warm, and as he searched between her spread legs, he found that her panties were soaking wet.

“You’ve been very bad, miss,” he whispered to her lips, and she nodded.

“I have, Professor,” she said, and it sounded just like it had in his fantasy.

Jon swallowed as he tried to calm his heart to ensure he could speak with a steady voice. “I think you need to be punished, miss,” he said, his fingertips pressing to her wet panties, tracing the shape of her lips.

Daenerys shuddered at the touch, and she nodded keenly. “Yes, Professor,” she spoke and kissed his lips, “I think that I do.” Her voice was soaked in such need that Jon couldn’t help but groan.

He pulled his hand away at once, grabbed at her waist, and tucked her down from the desk. For a moment, she looked confused, but only until he turned her around and pushed her over the desk. It was with such force that her hands scrambled for something to hold on to, and papers and books fell to the floor before her fingers managed to close around the edge of the wood on the other side.

“Oh God,” she whispered, the cool air slippering across her buttocks as he pulled her skirt aside, and her cheeks grew bright pink. “I am making quite the mess here.”

Jon placed his palm on her bum, the skin soft against his hand, and he gave her behind a squeeze. “It’s _ Professor_,” he reminded her, lifting his hand to land a light blow on her cheek.

Daenerys squirmed, and she sighed with a smile: “Oh dear, I am _ so sorry, _ Professor.”

“Apologies will not suffice,” Jon spoke as he landed another blow, this time slightly harder. As he watched her bottom jiggle, he felt his cock push at his trousers once more. _ I am actually touching her, _ he realised, raising his hand once more, slapping her arse. _ I am actually spanking my student. _

At every blow, Daenerys wriggled and let go of a light whine in delight. “Please, Professor,” she said, arching her back lightly. “Please tell me whatever I did wrong.”

“You wore those short skirts every day,” Jon said, and he felt the words slipped easily from his lips. Thinking back on it alone made his blood boil, and he caressed her soft bottom before giving the cheeks another slap. “Enticing me.”

“Yes,” Daenerys admitted, “I did do that.”

“You completely messed up my schedule,” Jon said, landing another slap on her buttocks. The skin was glowing pink, but Daenerys wriggled and pushed herself up for more. Jon was happy to comply; his free hand pushed between her legs, his fingertips running alongside her wet panties as he slapped her once more. “Every tea time became all about you.”

“Was I in your thoughts, Professor?”

“Every tea time,” he mumbled, the truth almost embarrassing, but it also felt freeing to say it. More so when Daenerys moaned at his touch and rubbed herself back down onto his hand.

“I am so sorry to have caused such trouble,” she spoke, glancing back over her shoulder at him. Her face was red, her lips parted as she took in shivering breaths, and the sight put Jon on edge. “I only meant to be the best student you’ve ever had.”

_ You’re the first student, _ Jon thought, licking his lips as his fingers pushed aside the fabric of her panties. As her wet sex brushed against his hand, he shivered in delight. She was so warm, and so wet, and her lips spread easily for him, allowing him to seek deeper inside of her. Soon, his fingertips were at her tight entrance, and they prodded her for permission to enter.

As his first finger sunk into her, Daenerys moaned. It was such a low, needy sound that Jon could only smirk, and he raised his free hand to slap her ass once more. “You seem to be enjoying your punishment a bit too much, miss,” he spoke.

Daenerys wriggled and did not reply, instead she pushed herself back onto his finger.

Jon, satisfied that she was enjoying herself, pushed another finger inside of her as he leaned down to kiss her sore skin. He could feel the heat from his slaps as he kissed his way up her bum, all the way to where her skirt sat. As his nose pushed to the line of her panties, he bit down at it with his teeth and pulled back.

Jon slowly knelt down behind her, his teeth keeping their grip on her panties, and he managed to drag them off her round behind. For a moment, his fingers retreated from her soft inners, and Daenerys moaned in confusion as he left her cold. But only for a moment; once she’d stepped out of the fabric, he pushed his face back up between her legs, his tongue darting across her wet, soft lips, and she gasped in surprise.

“Professor!”

Jon traced the shape of her sex with his tongue, tasting her juices and feeling her muscles work above him. His hands were on her arse, keeping her in place, and though he couldn’t see her face, he could sense her thrashing about atop his desk.

“You’re very wet,” he noted, his tongue trailing between her lips.

“It is all your fault, Professor,” she moaned, rocking herself down onto his kisses. “Maybe I should be the one punishing you?”

At her words, Jon chuckled warmly, and he licked his way from her lips to her arse, up across her buttocks as he slowly rose back to his feet. He gave her behind one more slap and watched it jiggle as he undid his slacks. “Don’t get cocky, miss,” he said, “after all, I am the one who will be evaluating your performance.”

“Oh dear,” Daenerys spoke, humour in her voice. As he grabbed a hold of his hard cock, she glanced over her shoulder back at him. As she gazed on his cock, he saw her lick her lips in anticipation. “I better do well then, to ensure my grades are not affected.”

“You better,” Jon admitted, although his mind was starting to get too clouded with lust to think of speaking dirty. For a moment, he revelled in the sight before him; Daenerys Targaryen, top student, bent over his desk, her arse bright pink and her sex dripping, presented to him as she wriggled closer, silently begging for his cock. _ I could not have imagined a better scene myself, _ he realised.

“Miss,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Daenerys glanced back at him. “Yes, Professor?” she spoke.

“Could you reach into my drawer, miss,” he said, stroking his cock.

Daenerys cocked her brows at him as she smirked. “More dirty things, Professor?” she asked, but she didn’t wait for a reply. Her hand fumbled down the side of the desk, blindly searching into his drawer. At first, she wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but it was then, as her tips brushed against something square, that she parted her lips in an, “Ooh.”

As she reached back, she was holding a condom. Jon easily snatched the little package from her, unwrapped it, and hurriedly pulled the condom down his cock.

“Very responsible,” she purred, but he could tell she was honestly pleased. “Are you always so well prepared, Professor, or am I just lucky?”

Jon snorted and slapped her bottom, causing her to moan. “Don’t be cheeky, miss,” he said and grabbed a hold of one cheek, pulling it slightly aside as he guided his cock to her sex. “Else I might have to come up with more punishments for you.”

As his cockhead slipped between her wet lips, pushing at her entrance, they both moaned at once. Daenerys fingers closed tightly around his desk, so much so that her knuckles started looking white, and Jon’s fingers dug deeply into her buttocks as he pushed himself inside of her.

He was surrounded with wetness and heat all at once. Daenerys’ inners clenched tightly around him, urging his cock to push in further, and he happily complied, feeling his whole body shudder with pleasure. _ She is so tight, _ he thought to himself, placing both his hands on her ass as he went further into her heat. _ She is so needy. _

Daenerys wriggled beneath him, her back arching as his fat cockhead penetrated her. His cock rubbed against her sensitive inners in a way no one else had before, and she could do nothing but moan at the feeling. _ “Oh Professor,_” she gasped, sweat running down her back beneath the wool of her turtleneck. “You make me feel so _ good_.”

Jon wasn’t sure whether she was putting it on, or if she was speaking in earnest, but one thing he was certain of - when he reached between her legs, rubbing at her nub whilst jerking his hips, her moans were so deep and filled with lust that they could only be real.

He soon found a rhythm; his fingers rubbed around her nub, then down her lips, tracing where they spread for his cock as he fucked her. He leaned over her, his weight pushing her down onto the desk, and he could feel every wriggle of hers against his hips and chest.

_ She is so sexy, _ he thought, sweat running down his forehead as he continuously fucked her, his hips jerking quicker and quicker. _ She is so fuckable. _ Truly, Daenerys was making a prettier picture than anything in his magazine; she was gasping and groaning, thrashing her head around as if she couldn’t lay still, her fingers letting go and then gripping hard onto the desk again and again. When he jerked forward, her bottom pressed tight to him, and when he pulled out slightly, it wriggled, as if begging for his return.

“Professor,” she whispered again, “please fuck me harder, _ please._”

Jon pulled back up from her, grabbed at her arse, and he complied; he started rocking into her with more furor, more need, his fingertips dragging across her soft, pink flesh. His movements made the desk rock, and Daenerys gasped in surprise as the table moved beneath her, making dull sounds as it rocked back onto the carpeted floor.

“Fuck!” she gasped as she was slammed back onto the top, and for a moment Jon worried he had acted in haste. But then she pushed herself up to her elbows as she glanced over her back at him, her eyes darkened with desire. “Jon,” she said, and it sounded strange. Not _ Professor. _ Just _ Jon. _ Had her eyes not been so enticing, he would’ve scolded her, but instead he found himself mesmerized by her gaze.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Turn me around,” she said, “I want to look into your eyes when you come.”

Had he not pulled out at her at once, he would’ve come there and then.

Jon quickly slipped out of her, groaning as his cock throbbed for a return to her warm inners, and he watched in heat as she flipped herself over, settling on the edge of his desk, her legs spread for him. “Come here,” she said and reached out to grab at his tie. With ease, she dragged him between her legs, and her free hand reached down to take a hold of his cock.

Before Jon had time to take control once more, he was being let back inside her warm sex, and he could only moan.

“That’s it,” she hissed and leaned back onto the desk, her hand never letting go of his tie. “That’s it, _ yes_.” Her other hand too reached up to grab at his tie, and he felt the fabric tighten around his throat as she held him in place.

As he fucked her, his hands on her legs, keeping them spread, he looked into her eyes and was met with lust. He had never thought a woman could look at him in such a way, and he thought, _ She really wants me. She truly wants me. _ It could not just be for his cock, he decided, not even when she moaned and begged for more as he fucked her with more haste. It had to be for him, because no one could speak his name the way she did without applying a different kind of meaning to it.

“Oh Jon,” she said, again and again, “oh Jon, please, ohh, please make me come.” Her voice was strained and she bit down on her lip, her gaze begging him for release.

Jon, unable to deny her urges, reached between her legs and rubbed at her nub as he fucked her to his own orgasm.

He groaned loudly as he came, her inners clenching around him. His hand was still at her nub, rubbing her in circular motions, but as she reached and took a hold of his hand, he stopped, realising that she was riding out her own orgasm. Her back arched one last time as she moaned, her hands finally letting go of his tie as she instead reached about, pushing anything left on his desk aside.

As her body relaxed back onto his desk, Jon let go of her legs and slowly slipped out of her. His cock throbbed lightly as he pulled off the filled condom, wrapped it and threw it in the bin.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure where to look. As he tucked himself back into his trousers, he cleared his throat and turned his back on her, almost feeling like he ought to give her privacy. Whilst watching the tip of his shoes, he heard her sigh, then the rustling of clothes as she got herself decent.

“Well, miss,” he said, but the word sounded odd on his lips now. “Well, Daenerys,” he said instead, and somehow he liked it. Saying her name felt so natural, so _ right. _ “That was, uhm-”

“-highly inappropriate?” she asked.

If possible, Jon flushed even more, and he tucked his chin to his chest as he felt his heart flutter. “Yes,” he admitted, “_highly _ inappropriate.” He still didn’t look at her, just kept staring at his shoes as she asked:

“Tell me the truth - have you ever done that before?”

“Sex?” Jon asked innocently, and he felt dumb as he heard her laugh.

“Sex with a student,” she clarified gently.

“No,” he admitted. “I have not.”

“Have you wanted to?”

“No,” he said once more, and his heart fluttered again as he added, “not until now.”

Jon listened as she slipped off his desk. Then, as her footsteps neared him, he held his breath and closed his eyes.

“Jon?” she said, and he could feel her breath on his face. “Jon, please look at me.”

As Jon opened his eyes again, she was standing before him. Her cheeks were still flushed, but her eyes were now kind as she gazed into his. She reached up, gently touching his cheek, and he leaned into her touch. “Daenerys,” he spoke, having nothing else to say.

She smiled shyly as he spoke her name, and she cocked her head as she started touching his face. She felt his beard, and her fingers sunk through the hair to the shape of his chin. Then, she stroked up his cheeks, around his ears, tickling the curly locks that rested there. Then she dragged her thumb across his eyebrows, down his nose, past his lips.

Jon felt warm under her scrutiny, more so when she sighed: “You’re rather nice to look at, really.”

He licked his lips and asked: “Did you only realise now?”

She laughed and took a hold of his jumper vest, stepping closer. He was certain she could feel his damp sweat on the fabric, and smell him as she pushed her nose to his, her eyes closing, but if so, she didn’t seem to mind.

Her breath hovered his lips as she spoke: “What do you think of me?”

Jon cleared his throat, glancing down at her. “I think you’re gorgeous,” he admitted.

She chuckled. “Is that so?”

His hands, no longer satisfied with resting at his sides, reached over and took a gentle hold of her waist. “It is,” he spoke, and at once he knew it to be the truth.

Something inside of Jon had shifted, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was a feeling he was unfamiliar with, and it filled his chest with flutter and nervosity all at once as she pressed her lips to his. Unlike their earlier kiss, this one was soft, gentle, and kind. The way she moved her plump lips across his was deliberate; it was not a kiss that asked for more, just one that happened because it felt right.

Jon pulled her a little closer as he kissed her back, his mind dizzy as their tongues lightly met, licking at one another. He didn’t want it to end, not when she pulled back and glanced at the watch on his wrist.

“Sorry, Professor,” she said, her voice teasing, “Looks like I made you late.”

For a moment, Jon couldn’t care less. All he wanted was to kiss her again, and again, and again. But then he caught sight of the time.

“Fuck!” Jon slapped his head with a groan. 15:23pm. “I’ve missed the board meeting again.”

* * *

“What a surprise.”

Olenna looked Jon up and down as he reached her. He was out of breath, his glasses askew on his nose, and his cheeks red from running. _ And other things, _ he thought, his mind still stuck back at the office. When he left, Daenerys was still tidying herself up, but he had no such time to spare. Not if he wanted to catch any of the meeting.

_ Looks like I should’ve have bothered, _he thought, gasping in air as he stopped before Olenna.

“Sorry, Doctor Tyrell,” he said, “time must’ve slipped.”

“You were never much of a participant,” Olenna said, “but you were always on time. Whatever did happen?” Her brows quirked, and Jon shook his head in disbelief.

“I just…” _ I just fucked Daenerys Targaryen, wrapped up a condom with my cum, and left it in my bin for the cleaning lady to find. Shit. _“I just… forgot,” he spoke.

Olenna narrowed her eyes. For a hot second, she looked like she wanted to tear into him, and Jon straightened up, holding his breath as he prepared for her scolding. But at once, the air left her lungs, and she sighed: “I don’t know how you managed, but you got it your way.”

“What?” Jon asked, blinking perplexed. As Olenna started trudging from the meeting room toward her office, he followed her a few steps behind. “What do you mean?”

“The faculty has decided that it is not reasonable to expect all our professors to mentor students,” Olenna explained as they walked. “I gather Viserys got wind of what happened. Despite his lack of respect for your name,” at this she glanced at him, “he was not all too pleased to hear that Daenerys did manage to track down a professor willing to assist her.”

The words swirled in Jon’s head as he tried to make sense of them. He pulled at his tie, only to find that the knot was almost undone. _ It’s her fault, _ he thought, and his body shivered at the memory.

“From that smirk on your face I can tell you already know,” Olenna grimaced. “We had to promise Viserys that we would put a pause to all paid trainee sessions right at this moment. It will of course be presented under the guise of Christmas exams coming up. _ Let the poor students focus on work, _ we will say. But alas, if we do not, he might pull his donations.”

As they stopped before her office, the words finally sunk in. Jon glanced at her in awe. “We’re no longer supporting our students?”

“Of course we are,” Olenna said, throwing out her hands. “You can teach and educate as you have before. But there will be no more students trailing behind their professor through the hallways. Not until Daenerys graduates, that is.” Olenna shook her head. “It is such a shame. The program was going so well.”

“So why aren’t we fighting the decision?” Jon asked. He could feel his heartbeat quicken as he continued: “There must be a way to push back!”

“Only if we’re willing to lose his sponsorship for good.” Olenna’s voice was sharp, and it stopped Jon right in his tracks. “Professor Snow, if you had been at the meeting, you would’ve known all of this. Please don’t make me repeat - whilst it might thrill you to know that you no longer have to spend time with Daenerys, it hurts my very heart.” With those words, she pushed her office door open, snapping, “Farewell,” and shut it in his face.

Jon stood staring at her door, his body going cold. _ No more Daenerys? _ he thought. _ Surely not. She didn’t just stick around to get money. She stuck around because she liked me. _ He nodded at his own thoughts as he slowly started making his way back to his office. _ She will stick around. She will make time for me. I am sure she will. _

But when he found his office empty, the curtains pulled, and his stuff still scattered on the floor, he was not so sure. And time only made him less certain.

* * *

As December passed, Jon scarcely saw Daenerys. When he paged her, she didn’t reply. When he passed her in the hallways, she just offered him a curt smile. Whenever he asked Olenna about her, she just shrugged and asked: “Why do you care?”

As the days grew even shorter, and he found his office clad in darkness at tea time, he couldn’t find it in him to jerk off. He just sat staring out the window, watching the students pass by, and he thought, _ Whatever I thought I knew, it was all a lie. _

The way she had said his name - it haunted him. He could hear it ring in his ears. Jon. Jon. Jon. She spoke it as if it meant something more. As if she applied kindness to it, gentleness to it, perhaps even a sense of love.

But when he stared around his empty office, he saw no sign of love, and once more he bitterly reminded himself, _ You stick to your schedule, you get through the day, and that is how you live your life. _

* * *

On Christmas eve, as light snow fell through the air, Jon found himself walking the empty hallways of the university, coffee in hand, as he hummed himself a merry Christmas tune. He knew himself to be alone, and for that reason he had not bothered to dress up. He was sporting a pair of flared jeans and a striped top, ready to pop off to the pub the moment he’d finished his research paper, and he had nothing but pints of beer on his mind as he turned a corner and suddenly saw _ her. _

Daenerys was waiting outside his office, dressed perfectly proper in a faux fur coat, her hands hidden in the deep pockets on the side. As he laid eyes on her, he froze in place, unable to understand that it was truly her, and a few long seconds passed before she noticed he was there.

“Oh, Professor,” she said, a smile on her lips.

Once he was discovered, Jon slowly started trudging toward her, his eyes mesmerized.

“Wow, you look different.”

Jon glanced down his body and shrugged. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here,” he said, though he felt his cheeks redden. For a moment, he worried she would tease him, but she just said:

“It suits you,” before pushing the door to his office open and walking inside.

Before he stepped over the threshold, Jon took in a deep breath. _ Behave, _ he told himself, _ don’t lash out. _ Then, he followed her.

Daenerys had already settled on the edge of his desk by the time he walked inside. He glanced at her, the memories of that one heated afternoon flooding back, and he quickly averted his eyes. “What are you doing here?” he asked, sipping his coffee.

“I just came to see you,” Daenerys spoke.

Before he could stop himself, Jon spat: “Well, that’s a first,” and he immediately bit his tongue in annoyance. _ You’re still a professor, _ he thought, _ and she is still a student. _ Yet, as he caught her kind eyes, he found it hard to stick to that reality, because his heart ached for them to be so, _ so _ much more. “I’m sorry-” he started, but Daenerys interrupted him:

“No, I am sorry.” She rested her hands in her lap as she swung her feet in the air, one at a time, the heels of her boots bumping to the tablelegs. “I’ve been avoiding you, and I’m sure you’re wondering why.”

“Not at all,” Jon said, trying to sound casual.

Daenerys smiled a little. “Well, for my own sake, please allow me to explain,” she asked.

Jon nodded, and he slowly walked back to his desk, settling in his leather chair. “Please,” he said, gesturing at the seat in front of him, but Daenerys remained on his desk.

She turned to look over her shoulder at him as she spoke: “You heard about my brother?”

“That I did,” he nodded, sipping his brew. He found he had to focus on something not to let his gaze slip all over her. “He shut down the program.”

Daenerys nodded as well. “It’s typical him, really. I don’t know why I expected anything else to happen. We don’t even live together anymore, and still he demands control over my life.” She sighed, glancing at her hands in her lap. She started peeling at her nails. “I thought things would be different here, but even universities seem to crave money over decency.”

“Not unlike you,” Jon said, but the moment the words left his lips, he knew he spoke in err.

Daenerys looked at him with cold eyes. “Is that why you thought I stopped coming by?”

“What else could it be?”

“It’s true, I needed the money,” she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. “It pays well. It might not seem like it to a man with your salary,” at her words, he flinched slightly, “but to me, not supported by anyone? Those pounds made the difference between paying rent on time or being kicked out.”

“I didn’t know,” Jon mumbled.

“How could you have,” Daenerys said, but there was a suggestion in her voice that he should have. She sighed: “Look, I know some students didn’t care. They just did as the faculty asked - focused on their work, and carried on. It’s easy when you live at home. But when you have to pay your own way?” Daenerys shook her head. “I had to take on another job.”

“Another one?” he asked surprised, “Did you already work?”

“I did dishes in the evenings,” Daenerys said with a wry smile. “It’s not fancy work, but it pays the bills. Now I also clean shops on the weekends.”

“I didn’t know,” Jon said once more. _ Apparently, I know nothing, _ he realised.

Daenerys slipped down from his desk as she turned to face him. “Look, I am not asking for you to apologise for anything,” she said, “and I am not looking to apologise either. I know how it looked - like I just _ abandoned _ you after that one afternoon.”

Jon glanced into his coffee as he nodded sadly. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “that is how it looked.” He swirled the brew around his mug, his brows furrowing. “I just don’t understand,” he said, then looked up at her, “why didn’t you just tell me?”

“For your sake,” she admitted. As Jon blinked in perplexion, she explained: “My brother was keeping an eye on us. Not personally, sure, but he pays his way into the eyes and ears of any professor here as he pleases.” She cocked her head as she smiled sadly. “I couldn’t risk someone seeing something indecent. What if he was to hear about it?”

“We’re consenting adults,” Jon said, then hesitatingly added: “Right?”

“Right,” Daenerys chuckled, “but we’re also student and professor. It would not look good for you.”

“The media would have a feast,” Jon realised.

Daenerys nodded. “And once more, my brother would’ve gotten his way, making me miserable.” She rested her hands on her back as she sighed. “Look, I don’t expect you to say anything. I just wanted you to know why.”

Jon nodded. “Thank you,” he said, and he meant it. “I’m glad you told me.”

“Besides, I wanted to give you this.” Daenerys reached into the deep pockets of her coat as she withdrew a small parcel. It was the size of her palm, wrapped in newspapers, and tied together with a bright, red bow. “Merry Christmas.”

“Oh.” Jon blinked stunned, and he only slowly accepted the gift from her hands. “I didn’t even get you anything,” he spoke in a mumble.

Daenerys smiled. “It doesn’t matter.”

Jon fiddled with the bow, his fingers shaking a bit. “Can I open it now?” he asked.

“Wait until I’ve left,” Daenerys asked. She popped her hands into the pockets of her jacket as she eyed him. “Jon?” She waited for him to glance back at her. “University is not the only place we can meet,” she said, and for a moment, she let those words hang in the air. But before he could reply, she winked and turned, trudging to his door. She grabbed at the handle and did a wave with her free hand. “Bye, Jon - and Merry Christmas.”

As she walked out, closing the door behind, Jon stuttered: “Merry Christmas.”

Once he was left alone again, he breathed out, feeling himself sink deeply into the leather of his chair. He stared at nothing, his mind buzzing, and he thought, _ Did she just suggest that I meet up with her somewhere else? _

His gaze fell on the present. Slowly, he reached out, tugging the little tag free of the ribbon as he turned it to read:

> From me, to you. Let me know if it’s true.

Jon furrowed his brows. “A poem?” he spoke. He then shrugged and undid the ribbon, pushed his fingers into the newspaper, and tore it apart.

There, between the paper wrappings, was a little device. It looked like the pager he had given her weeks earlier, but it was new, and as he turned it between his fingers, the expression on his face vexed, it suddenly beeped and the screen lit up.

Jon leaned in and read out aloud: “143?”

For a moment, he had no clue what that meant. Then, it came flooding back to him.

“143,” he said, and his eyes lit up, his heart skipping a beat. “143 - I love you.”

His fingers closed around the device and once more he leaned back in his chair, pressing the pager to his heart as he glanced out the window. As he watched the snow fall, his heart fluttered lightly in his chest, and he thought, _ 143, Daenerys - I love you too. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments on the last chapter, I am so happy so many of you enjoyed the story and setting! I'll be back to read them all again and reply, but for now I hope you liked the ending to this story. It was a lot of fun to write, and I might return to the setting at some point in the future.
> 
> Thanks to DragonandDirewolf for the sexy art! It captures the story ;)


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